


It catches up with you

by Ischa



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up Together, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-08 05:55:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3197921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roughly 100 years of loving Steve. </p><p>
  <i>He brushed his hand against Steve's and Steve stopped mid-word. Bucky pulled his hand away, not knowing why he felt his heart stutter for a second and then Steve's thin, cool fingers were wrapping around Bucky's and Steve was continuing his story like nothing unusual ever happened. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a movie(s) compliant AU, in which Bucky has a Romanian background and is one year younger than Steve.  
> A few dialogues are lifted from the movies.  
> Rating for the whole thing, not this first part.  
> Beta: Icalynn. All my love and thanks.  
> Also thanks to omletlove, who lets me ramble on about everything Bucky and migration backgrounds.

**Part One: Before the War**

_~One~_

“Another fight?” Mama asked and James just nodded. It wasn't like he wanted to fight all the time. It was just, the other kids were stupid and mean. And making fun of how he spoke. 

Mama grabbed a towel and started to clean up his face. “And you're not even in school yet,” she added. He liked that at home they still spoke their own language. It was easy to pretend then that he was still home, back in Romania and not here. Here… Why did they have to come to Brooklyn anyway? James hated it here. He hated that they were stuck here now with no way to get back home. He hated that his step-dad died only a few months after they came to America. He hated that his mom had to work way too hard so they had a roof over their heads and food on the table. 

“School will be fine,” James lied. She kissed his forehead. Mama knew he was lying. 

He would try to make friends. He would try to be a real American, whatever that even meant. Luigi and his stupid brother sure as hell were Italian. So what gave them the right to mock James? And how he spoke? 

“Go wash your hands,” Mama said. “Dinner will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Yes,” James replied and did just that. 

~+~

School was even worse than he had thought it would be. No one wanted to speak with him. But they were whispering and mocking behind his back. He hated it more than when they were mean to his face, even if he didn’t understand half the things they said. 

He balled his hands into fists and kept his head down. It would get better. His mama said. He just wished that it would get better now. 

He missed his friends and he missed being able to understand every single insult that was thrown his way. 

He missed bread. Real bread and not the stuff that America thought was bread. He missed a lot of things; most of all, James realized, he missed being able to talk to someone. Just talk. 

It would get better. Eventually, he knew that, but it was still awful right now. 

~+~

James didn't think of himself as a good boy, nor bad for that matter, but he sure as hell wasn't in any way heroic, so why he stepped in to rescue that scrawny kid getting beaten up in the schoolyard was anyone's guess. He didn't know. Or maybe he just felt a kindred spirit. Maybe he had been just really angry. Or lonely. 

He crouched down as soon as the bullies were gone and reached out to the kid. The kid flinched. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

The kid slowly sat up and then took a deep breath. “You saved me.” 

James rubbed the back of his neck. “I—”

“Steven Rogers,” the kid said, sticking his hand out. It was small and thin and looked frail. James was nearly afraid to take it, but when he looked in the kid’s earnest blue eyes he grabbed the offered hand firmly. “You can call me Steve.” 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he replied, shaking Steve's hand.

Steve cocked his head. “Sounds American enough—”

“I’m not,” James said. He let go of Steve’s hand and began to get up but was stopped when the boy’s thin fingers curled around his arm.

“I don't care,” Steve said. “You're still my hero.”

“Hero?” He wasn't sure he understood what Steve was saying. 

“Yeah, like Robin Hood or Hercules!” Steve answered, nodding furiously. 

James smiled. “Hercules?” 

Steve smiled back. 

~+~

Steve liked books and pictures and he was pretty good at drawing, James thought idly. Sometimes when Steve was feeling really good they would climb trees and play hide and seek in the alleys and backyards.   
Steve would teach him things. He would read stories to James and sometimes James even liked them. Steve would explain the words James didn’t understand in a way that didn’t make James think he was stupid. 

“You're getting really good at this,” Steve said, putting his fork down and looking at James. 

“What?” James asked. They were at his place because Steve liked original Romanian cuisine. Or so he claimed. 

“Speaking English. Soon everyone will see how awesome you are,” Steve said, he was smiling, but it was a small smile and James—

“Hey, I'm still your friend,” James said. He had the stupid urge to reach over and grab Steve's hand. Steve's fingers were twitching in his direction on the table too and— “What the hell,” James said (the swear words were coming really easy), rolling his eyes and grabbing Steve's hand. 

Steve looked down at their hands and then at James and smiled. Real and big. And James was fighting a blush for some reason. 

“Eat your dinner,” James said, but he wasn't pulling his hand away and neither was Steve. 

~+~

It was true. He was getting better. It was easier understanding what the teachers were saying and what the kids wanted and some of them even talked to James now. Girls, mostly, but a few of the boys were coming around too. 

It was good, he thought, when Steve was home sick and James had no one to play with. But the other kids weren't Steve. 

And James missed Steve a lot when he was too sick to go to school. 

He felt kinda like a traitor when he played and had fun with other kids. 

~+~

“Brought you your homework,” James said, putting it down on the small bedside dresser. “Can't be lazy forever.” 

Steve smiled. He looked paler than usual. It frightened James sometimes, seeing Steve like that. He's seen corpses that had the same skin tone. He shook his head. 

“What?” Steve asked.

“Nothing,” James replied, because he wasn't going to tell Steve that he looked like a corpse and that James was worried he would die. Soon. 

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve said and he wanted to sound stern, James knew, but he just wasn't. 

“My mama calls me that when I've been bad,” James said. “Don't call me that.”

Steve cocked his head and closed his eyes. “How about Bucky?” He asked after a moment. 

“What kind of name is that?” James answered, but he was secretly pleased that Steve was thinking about nicknames. Only friends and family had nicknames for each other. 

“Don't you like it?” Steve asked and then nearly choked on a coughing fit. James was at his side in seconds, helping him sit and massaging his back. 

“Jesus,” he said and it came out completely un-American. He was scared and falling back into the patterns of his childhood. 

It took forever for Steve to catch his breath. “I'm fine,” he wheezed.

“You're not,” James replied. 

Steve smiled. “No, okay, I'm not. But I will be. I always bounce back, besides I can't leave you to fend for yourself. You'd be lost without me, Bucky.” 

James sighed. “I'm gonna make you some tea, okay? And then we can do your homework.”

“Okay,” Steve said. 

~+~ 

“Bucky!” Steve said, looking up at Bucky. He wasn't strong enough yet to climb the tree, but Bucky was and it was really easy to grab a few apples. As long as Steve was being a good lookout. He wasn't because he was only looking at Bucky, up in the tree. 

“Stop staring at me and start looking out for people,” Bucky hissed. “And be quite!” 

“Bucky!” Steve whispered urgently. “Come down and let’s run.” 

“Just a few more,” Bucky said, because maybe if he got enough his mama would make a cake.

“Heroes don't steal,” Steve said in that tone that Bucky kind of hated, because it got Steve into trouble all the time. 

“I'm no hero, I'm just a stupid kid that wants cake.”

“Pie,” Steve corrected absentmindedly.

“Dumb kid that wants pie,” Bucky replied. “What's the difference anyway?” 

Steve was silent for way too long, so Bucky looked down. Steve was staring at the ground. 

“You don't know,” Bucky said. 

“Some things just are, but I'm gonna go to the library and find out,” Steve replied, looking up at Bucky. 

“No need. I trust you. If you say I'm gonna have pie, then I'm gonna have pie, now grab the apples and let's run,” he said, throwing a few more down. They probably had worms but whatever. At least they were free. 

~+~

Sometimes all Bucky wanted to do was build a fort and lay down surrounded by warm, soft things and listen to Steve talk—or breathe. 

He knew that most kids—most boys—built forts to play in them, to be pirates, kings or knights. Bucky liked the softness of it, the intimacy, the warm space where he didn't need to think about how to behave—American or boyish. 

Steve's hand was nearly brushing Bucky's on the blanket they were lying on while they were staring at the ceiling that was a blanket, too. Their fort was more of a cave and it was dark, because it was dark outside and they didn't bother with any lamps in or outside their fort. Steve was telling a story about ancient heroes. Bucky was only half paying attention to the story; he was just listening to Steve's voice. It had a soothing effect. Maybe he learned that from his mom. 

He brushed his hand against Steve's and Steve stopped mid-word. Bucky pulled his hand away, not knowing why he felt his heart stutter for a second, and then Steve's thin, cool fingers were wrapping around Bucky's and Steve was continuing his story like nothing unusual ever happened. 

Bucky felt himself flush. Hot and a bit embarrassed, but he didn't pull his hand away and neither did Steve.   
They fell asleep that way. 

~+~

“My step-dad promised us a better life, here,” Bucky said, plucking out daisies idly as he was sitting on the grass next to Steve. Steve was sketching the tree or bird or something. But he was also listening. “And then he went and died.” 

“You think it's a better life here?” Steve asked. He still wasn't looking at Bucky, but Bucky was looking at him now. 

“I don't know. It was shitty before I learned the language and it's still shitty sometimes, but—” he shrugged. “The village I'm from wasn't that much better, really.” 

“You're too young to be nostalgic and cynical,” Steve said. 

Bucky laughed. “Can you even be both at the same time?” 

“Apparently you can,” Steve said, looking over his shoulder at Bucky. There was a slight emphasis on “you”. 

“I'm awesome like that, I guess. What are you sketching, anyway?” Bucky asked. 

“The tree,” Steve said. “Are you getting bored?” 

“Nah,” Bucky replied. “I'm just gonna make you a daisy necklace.” 

Steve laughed, Bucky made it anyway and Steve wore it on the way back home. 

~+~

The thing was that after he made friends with Steve, his life started looking up. Steve was smart, noble in a way that always got him into trouble, and fun to have around. He never once made fun of Bucky's accent. He even wanted to learn Romanian. He wasn't especially good, but he wasn't bad. He couldn't speak it but he understood a lot and when Bucky's mama asked something in Romanian because she sometimes forgot, Steve always answered politely in English. It was strange and nice to see two people having a conversation in two different languages. Like language was not just another barrier. With Steve it was a bridge. 

“I like your friend Steve,” Mama said one evening, after Steve had gone home. He’d left a sketch of a tree and flower for her, which she pinned to the kitchen wall. 

“I like him, too,” Bucky said. 

Mama nodded. “You will take good care of him.” 

It wasn't a question, but Bucky nodded anyway. 

He knew that his Mama was worried about Steve's health, too. Pretty much everyone in school thought Steve wouldn't live to see his sixteenth birthday. 

Bucky knew better. Steve was made of sturdier stuff than most people thought. 

~+~

Steve was sick again on Bucky's tenth birthday. There were other kids mingling around in the small apartment and Mama had somehow managed to make a cake. It was a good day, but… Steve wasn't there. And it must have been really bad, Bucky thought, because if it had only been a cold or something Steve would've come anyway.   
Mrs. Rogers had come by and wished him a happy birthday. She had handed over a small envelope too. Bucky hadn't opened it yet. He had put it in his room and was trying to enjoy the games and cake.   
But at the back of his mind, there was always the envelope and Steve lying in bed alone. Sick again and hurting. 

Mama was already wrapping a piece of cake when the last kids closed the door behind them. 

“Here, I know you want to go over to Steve,” she said. 

“Thank you,” Bucky replied. 

“Be careful. Don't stay out long. Steve needs to rest,” Mama said. 

Bucky nodded. 

He knew that she was worried he would get too attached to Steve, but really, Bucky thought, was it even possible for him to like Steve more than he already did? Bucky didn't think so.


	2. Chapter 2

_~Two~_

“I swear, the older you get the stupider you become,” Bucky said, cleaning away the blood from Steve's face. Steve was still scrawny as hell but that didn't stop him from picking fights with guys bigger and meaner than him. 

“There is nothing stupid about standing up for yourself and what's right,” Steve mumbled. 

Bucky sighed. He was thirteen, now, and the accent was gone, except when he was talking really fast. No one made fun of him anymore and he still was best friends with Steve.   
Steve was still a little shit, too stupid to let it go or run away. 

Bucky pressed the wet towel harder into Steve's skin and he hissed. “Do you not want to live and see your sixteenth birthday?” Bucky asked. 

Steve glared at him. He had really expressive eyes, Bucky thought. “I can't just run away.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because once you start, you won't stop,” Steve replied. 

Maybe it was Steve's damned heroic soldier father and the stories his mom told little Steve when he was a kid. Honor and all that jazz. But there was nothing honorable about dying in a ditch and spilling blood for money. In Bucky's opinion, there was nothing heroic at all about war. Fallen soldiers weren't heroes—they were dead.   
If Bucky could choose to have a dead hero or a father who was alive, he knew exactly what he would chose. 

“Steve,” Bucky said. 

“I know you don't get it, but they're not picking on you,” Steve cut in. 

“I know, but I get the bruises to show for it anyway.” 

“You don't have to rescue me every damned time!” Steve said hotly, getting up. 

“So you'd rather I let them beat you up, so you can stay another few days in bed and worry your mom? And what about the money she’s losing when you’re lying in bed with broken bones and bruises, because someone needs to take care of you and she can't work? As if it weren't bad enough that you don't get colds but freaking pneumonia and then there’s the asthma and—”

“Fine! I know. I'm scrawny and weak and useless,” Steve nearly yelled. 

“Jesus, Steve,” Bucky said, and it was with the Romanian consonants. He grabbed for Steve and pulled him in, crushing him against his chest. “You're not useless. You taught me English. And other shit I probably won't ever need.” 

Steve laughed weakly into Bucky's shirt. “Are we good now?” Steve asked quietly. 

“Yeah, we are,” Bucky replied, because there was no use to cut his ties now. He was going to follow Steve around no matter what. Someone had to look out for the punk because he wasn't going to do it himself.   
And what were a few more bruises and split lips if he could keep Steve a bit longer? 

~+~

Bucky liked Marla Evans and he thought that maybe she liked him, too. She had lent him one of her pencils last week in math. He knew that he could have borrowed one from Steve, but tugging gently on her curls to get her attention had been irresistible so he had done it and then asked for a pencil and she had smiled just a little smile and handed it over.  
She even greeted him back when he said hello in the mornings. 

“You're sweet on her,” Steve said, cutting an apple and handing Bucky half of it.

Bucky bit into his half so he could think of what to say for a few moments more, but really, why? It was Steve he was talking to and Steve wouldn't laugh about Bucky's feelings for Marla. “Guess I am,” Bucky said, after swallowing. 

“I think she likes you, too,” Steve replied. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “You should ask her if you can carry her books home or something.” 

“I'm carrying yours,” Bucky said. 

“I'm not—I can do it on my own,” Steve replied. “I'm not a girl.” 

“To be fair,” Bucky said, grinning at Steve, “she can probably carry twice as much as you.” 

Steve nudged his ribs none too gently with his bony elbow. Steve fought dirty. Sometimes. “Funny, but I meant it. She's pretty.” 

Bucky looked at him. “Are you sweet on her?” 

Steve shrugged. “She's nice, too.” 

“Yeah, she is. So, are you?” 

“And what if I am?” Steve asked. “It's not like she'll let me carry her books home.” 

“You don't know that. She just might,” Bucky said. 

Steve gave him a look that clearly said Bucky wasn't fooling anyone. “She likes you.” 

Bucky didn't know what to say to that. He just hoped that Steve would grow a few inches soon and maybe put on some weight, too. 

Steve was a good guy and he deserved a nice girl he could sketch for hours or whatever. 

“Okay,” Bucky said. 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, I'm gonna ask her if I can walk her home after school,” Bucky said. 

“Good,” Steve replied. 

~+~

Marla let him carry her books after school and she shared her cookies and sometime chocolate with him.   
Bucky always took half of his share home when it was chocolate. He left it in Steve’s room. He was pretty sure Steve knew where it came from, but they never talked about it. It was freely-given chocolate. It wasn’t like either of them could afford to buy it.

“You’re not going out with her because her father can pull some strings?” Steve asked one evening. Bucky was sleeping over, because summer vacation had just started and they were planning on exploring a bit outside the city. 

“What? No. Steve, Jesus,” Bucky said. 

“I like how you say Jesus. I probably shouldn’t because it sounds like a curse, but I do,” Steve said. 

Steve was sometimes so fucking random, Bucky thought. “Thanks, I guess,” Bucky replied. 

“It’s when your accent comes out,” Steve said. 

“When I curse?” Bucky asked. He didn’t really notice. 

“Yeah, and when you’re talking really fast.” Steve looked down at the pillows on the ground that Bucky was lying on. Steve's face was still too small and pale and delicate, Bucky thought, looking at Steve. Unearthly and unhealthy. Bucky really hoped some sun would work wonders for Steve this summer. 

“Okay…”

“I think Marla finds it cute,” Steve said, getting back on topic. 

“I sure as hell hope so. And you know I wouldn’t take any of her chocolate, but man—”

“It’s chocolate,” Steve said. “By the way: Thanks.” 

“For what?” Bucky asked, even if he knew. 

Steve threw a pillow at him that Bucky easily caught. “For sharing it with me.” 

“It’s fine,” Bucky said. He would share everything with Steve. “Sleep now, ‘cause we have some biking and walking to do tomorrow. Better you’re rested.”

“I’m not made of porcelain,” Steve huffed. 

Sometimes Bucky really wasn’t so sure. “’Night, Steve.”

“’Night, Bucky.”

~+~

The summer of Bucky’s fifteenth birthday, Marla broke up with him. Bucky saw it coming, to be honest, but he had thought she would get it. That he had to be there for Steve. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. He looked crushed. Like he had spoiled Bucky’s only hope for eternal happiness. Steve really needed to stop living in the hero novels he was reading. The real world didn’t work like that. Besides, Bucky was only fifteen, for god’s sake. 

“It’s fine,” Bucky replied. 

“It isn’t,” Steve said. “If I hadn't gotten into a fight again, you wouldn’t have to rescue me and get punched in the face for it and looking like this—” he gestured vaguely at Bucky’s rumbled state, “—when Marla’s dad came to pick you up for the movies.” 

“It was awful, anyway, that he was going to be there, like I would try anything at the movies. Jesus.” 

Steve still looked crushed. “It’s my fault she broke up with you.” 

“It’s the asshole’s fault for thinking he could get away with kicking you while you were down,” Bucky said harshly. He hated it when someone did that. It just wasn’t okay anymore to kick someone who was down, and Steve had been bleeding and whimpering. He had reminded Bucky of a puppy. All of Bucky’s protective instincts had kicked in. Hard. 

“Bucky—”

“No, listen,” Bucky interrupted. “Are you listening?” He wanted to know, because there was that stubborn tilt to Steve’s face that told Bucky he wanted to argue. 

“Yeah, I’m listening.” 

“It wasn’t like I wanted to marry her. And I would never marry a girl that didn’t like you.”

“She liked me just fine—”

“Yeah, before you started to interrupt whatever fantasy she had built for us two,” Bucky said, and it was the first time he even admitted it to himself. She had been hinting at Steve being not good enough or some bullshit. Maybe she— Bucky had no idea what people’s problems with Steve were. He only knew what Steve’s problems with people were. 

Steve crossed his arms over his thin chest. “I can’t be at your side forever.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bucky asked, confused. 

“It means that in five years or so, you’ll find a nice girl and settle down and there’s no room for a third person—”

Bucky laughed. “You make it sound like you’re my… affair or something.” 

Steve blushed. He was very uncomfortable with all things… adult. But he wanted to know them anyway. He had been quietly listening to Bucky when he told Steve about his first kiss and how Marla’s lips had felt on his and what noises she had made. 

“Bucky!” 

“We still have time to think about settling down, Steve. And as far as I’m concerned, you’re gonna live in a house right next to me, so our kids can grow up to be best friends.”

“House, hmm?” Steve teased. 

“You have to dream big,” Bucky replied. 

“So, backyard and a dog?” Steve said. 

“I’d like that,” Bucky said quietly. 

“Yeah, I’d like that, too.” 

~+~

It wasn’t hard to get a new girlfriend. Girls seemed to like Bucky well enough, even if he was poor, but then most of the kids in class were.

“It's probably because you're nice,” Steve said, chewing on his pencil. 

Bucky massaged his neck, because it was getting stiff from holding still so long for Steve. “I was hoping it's because I’m good-looking,” Bucky joked. 

Steve ducked his head. “You're probably that, too.” 

“Probably? I mean, from an artist's point of view, am I or am I not good-looking? Handsome, even?” Bucky teased. 

“I'm not an artist,” Steve said. 

“What else then? You’re really good with the pencil,” Bucky said. It was true, too. Steve was getting better and better, probably because there wasn't much else to do for him when he was sick. Reading was, half the time, too much effort, so Steve sketched a lot of random things. He had gotten into people a few months ago and was drawing his elderly neighbors and pretty much anyone who would sit still for a period of time. Bucky didn't mind. 

“I just like doing it,” Steve answered. “It doesn't mean I’ll be someone great one day.” 

Bucky made a frustrated noise. “Sure you will be.” 

Steve looked up from his sketchbook and smiled at him. He had pretty lips, like a girl, Bucky thought, and then smacked himself mentally. What the hell was that all about? 

“You have to say that—you're my friend.” 

“I'm your best friend and that's why I don't have to say that. I'm here to talk sense into you, if you want to hear it or not,” Bucky said. “How much longer do I have to sit still?” 

“A few more minutes,” Steve replied. But he had said that fifteen minutes ago, Bucky thought. He stretched and then got into position again. 

“I hope this’ll be a masterpiece, Steve,” he said. 

“Not sure about it, but I'll make you very handsome.” Steve grinned over the rim of the sketchbook at him. 

Little shit, Bucky thought fondly. “Punk.” 

“Hold still, jerk,” Steve replied and Bucky laughed. 

~+~

On Bucky's sixteenth birthday, they got drunk in the basement with something that didn't even have a name, but Bucky got it cheap from the Polish kid two blocks down. 

Steve made a face as Bucky unscrewed the jar. 

“Shouldn't alcohol come in a bottle?” he asked. 

“The good kind? Sure, but this is what you get when you're poor,” Bucky said. “I just wanna get drunk for my birthday. You don't have to,” Bucky answered, and knew that Steve would take that comment as a challenge, which it wasn't meant to be. 

Steve sighed. “Good thing Prohibition is over. I wouldn't want you to end up in prison for this cheap… whatever it is.” 

“And just in time, too,” Bucky replied. He hadn't wanted to get drunk before, but somehow he had this image in his head that showed him drunk of his ass on his sixteenth birthday. “To 1933,” he added, taking a swig. It tasted awful. 

Steve laughed and Bucky held the jar out to him. “To you,” Steve said, and took a sip too. To his credit, he didn't cough it back up. He made a disgusted face instead. “For your eighteenth birthday, we're gonna buy the real stuff. Maybe whiskey or wine,” he added.

“What about your eighteenth birthday?” Bucky asked. Steve didn't look it but he was a year older than Bucky. “It's closer than mine.” 

“I don't want to get my ass handed over to me by my mom because I spent money on alcohol,” Steve said, turning the jar in his hands. 

“I'll buy it then,” Bucky said; it was more of a promise, really. “You should have cake and booze and a girl on your eighteenth birthday.” 

“Please promise me that you won't buy me a girl,” Steve said. 

Bucky looked at him sharply. “Steve, for fuck's sake. I would never do that. My mama would have my balls for something like that.” 

Steve nodded. “Okay.” 

Bucky frowned. “I just meant that I'm sure you'll find someone you like to take out and stuff by then.” 

Steve leaned his head against the cool basement wall and closed his eyes. His throat looked really delicate and vulnerable like that, Bucky thought, and stomped on the urge to run his fingers over Steve's soft-looking skin. They weren't kids anymore. Steve was seventeen, for god's sake. 

“Your word in god's ear,” Steve said. 

Bucky took the jar out of his hands. “Give me that. I think you had enough. Lightweight.” 

“Jerk.”

“Punk,” Bucky said fondly, taking a swig. 

~+~

The next day Bucky woke up with a really bad headache, curled around Steve in Steve’s narrow bed.   
It was nice. He felt warm and he liked waking up with someone there.   
He blinked and looked down at Steve. Steve was looking up at him. 

“How are you feeling?” Steve whispered. 

“Like someone took a hammer to my head,” Bucky replied. He closed his eyes again. “How did we end up here?” 

“I carried you,” Steve said. 

“Funny,” Bucky replied. 

“Okay… you got really drunk and threw up behind the trashcans and then we staggered upstairs. I made you brush your teeth and then you passed out here. It was a good thing mom was on shift. Still is, but she’ll be home soon. You want tea?” 

Bucky wasn’t sure his stomach could handle any tea. “Maybe just water.” 

“Still wanna get drunk on my next birthday?” Steve teased. 

“Maybe we’ll stick to the cake and girls,” Bucky said. 

“Be right back,” Steve replied as he untangled himself and got up. Bucky was tempted to grab him and pull him against his chest again, but didn’t. He was feeling miserable, and water and some more sleep would probably cure that. 

He closed his eyes again and was soon asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Ischa’s tumblr](http://ischa-posts.tumblr.com) Where I post art, snippets, ideas and give away books at random.

_~Three~_

“We should do something,” Bucky said. He had just gotten paid for the first time and had given half of it to his mama, but she insisted he kept the other half and do something nice.   
He could have found a girl to take out, but… 

“Like what?” Steve asked. He was still a bit too pale and too thin and he was just recovering from a bad cold. In the middle of the freaking summer. 

“Like going somewhere and have fun,” Bucky answered. 

“Okay,” Steve said. “Where would you like to go?” 

“Coney Island.”

“Ice cream and sunbathing?” 

“You could use some sun and a few more pounds on your ribs.” 

“I gave up on gaining weight some time ago,” Steve said. He sounded resigned to his fate. Bucky wasn’t sure he liked it. 

“Fine, still: ice cream, hotdogs, and fun rides.” 

“Wouldn’t you like to take a girl?” Steve asked. 

Bucky sighed. “Steve, what the hell? I just wanna go and have fun with my best friend.” 

He took out a cigarette and lit it. He wasn’t a stress smoker—normally—but sometimes Steve was really fucking difficult. He exhaled away from Steve, because the smoke made Steve cough. 

“Fine, let’s go.” Steve said and got up. He stretched and Bucky looked away from the patch of skin that showed between his shirt and pants. It was too pale too and looked really smooth.   
Sometimes he itched to touch it. 

“Now?” 

“Sure, it won’t take that long, and it’s not like we have a curfew,” Steve said. 

Bucky nodded. 

Bucky made Steve ride the Cyclone and Steve threw up afterwards. Which was between really funny and not, because it was really horrible for Steve. Bucky could tell. He was feeling embarrassed on top of being sick.   
Bucky bought him a lemon water ice in a cup afterwards and they just sat and looked at the ocean. 

“Not gonna do that again,” Steve said. 

“You should just not rise to such stupid challenges anymore,” Bucky replied. He still felt a bit guilty and therefore defensive.

Steve looked at him. “It’s not your fault. I could have said no.” 

“Yeah, but you didn’t,” Bucky said, and wondered if it was just Steve’s stubbornness or something else. Like thinking that he owed Bucky in some stupid way. 

“Because I wanted to try it out,” Steve said and after a moment. “Would never have tried it alone.”

“So you’re glad you did it?” 

“Sure,” Steve said easily. 

“Wanna do it again?” Bucky asked. 

“No way in hell,” Steve replied. 

~+~

There were things you just weren’t prepared for no matter what. One of those things was your mother marrying again. Bucky had seen it coming, really, and he wished her the best and he knew that soon he would find himself an apartment and move out. He was making just enough money working at the docks. Mama wasn’t too thrilled about it, but there wasn’t really anywhere else to go except the army and Mama wouldn’t be too thrilled about that, either. At the docks he didn’t have to be afraid of getting a bullet hole in his chest. 

“I’m glad for her,” Bucky said, sitting on Steve’s bed. Steve’s room hadn’t changed much since the first time Bucky had seen it. The drawings on the walls were better, but he still had the same pale blue blanket thrown over the bed. It was comforting. 

“Because you were thinking about moving out anyway?” Steve asked. They had been talking about it in a vague sense. Mostly, Bucky was uncomfortable with bringing girls home he wasn’t really that interested in. A bit of privacy would be nice. His mother was old-fashioned that way. It wasn’t like Bucky was trying to get them pregnant or anything, but there was no harm in doing other things that felt good. For him and the girl. There was of course no way in hell he wanted his mother to see him lick a girl to make her feel good. 

“Yeah, and I like to know there is someone there for her when she comes home from work.” 

Steve nodded. His mom had only Steve. Steve wasn’t talking about moving out. Bucky would have offered to share an apartment or even just a room, but he knew there was no way in hell Steve would move out and come live with him. Not as long as his mother was alive, anyway. 

“Try to not get into too much trouble with the girls,” Steve said. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. “They love me.”

“Everyone loves you,” Steve said absentmindedly. 

Bucky looked at him, then. Steve wasn’t looking at him; he was staring at the wall. “You love me, too?” he asked before he could think about it. 

To his credit Steve didn’t even blush. “Yeah, sure. You’re my best friend.” 

The thing was, Bucky thought, that he was pretty much Steve’s only friend. Lately Bucky didn’t know how he felt about it. 

~+~

“We’re going out,” Bucky said on entry to the Rogers' kitchen. 

Steve looked up from his sketchbook for a brief moment and then went back to drawing. “I’m not ready for Coney Island again,” he said. 

“No, dancing.” 

Steve looked at him again. “Dancing? Don’t you do that with girls?” 

“Yes,” Bucky said rolling his eyes. “You do that with girls.” He had heard things about boys doing it with boys too, but… He wasn’t going to think about the filthy stuff that the men at the docks liked to talk about. And that Bucky liked to hear about (although he pretended otherwise) because sometimes you learned really useful stuff. 

“Okay,” Steve said and went back to his sketchbook. 

Bucky grabbed it and pressed it against his own chest. “Steve.”

“You go and have fun—”

“My date has a friend,” Bucky said. 

“You set me up with a girl?” Steve asked. His voice was carefully neutral. That, Bucky learned, was never good.

“She didn’t have a date and wanted to go dancing. I mentioned you.”

“What did you tell her about me?” 

Bucky shrugged. “Your name and that you like art.”

Steve looked at him for a long moment. “Fine.”

“Great! Her name is Lisa. Go on and put on something nice.” 

“I don’t need you to tell me to dress nicely when I go out,” Steve said. 

“I’ll just wait here.” 

~+~

“I admit,” Bucky said, exhaling smoke slowly. “The last one was a bit of a—”

“‘Disaster’ is the word you’re looking for, Bucky,” Steve cut in. “I don’t blame her in the slightest.”

“But me?”

“You should have mentioned that I was small and scrawny and—”

“It didn’t occur to me that it was important in any way,” Bucky said, cutting him off. 

Steve looked at him. “It’s not for you.”

Were girls really that shallow? “Steve. It’s not important if it’s the right person.” 

Steve nodded. “I know. Just… I felt like you were lying to her about me, somehow.” 

“I wasn’t. I don’t think it’s important.” 

Steve bit his lip like he did sometimes when he didn’t want to start a fight. Bucky hated that. “Spit it out.” 

“Fine. You do think it’s important when it’s a girl. You wouldn’t go out with a girl you don’t find attractive, would you? Why should it be different with girls?” 

“Because they’re smarter than us,” Bucky grinned. “They aren’t as shallow.”

Steve sighed. It was his ‘I’m not amused’ sigh. Bucky knew all of Steve’s sighs by now. Plus his frowns and smiles and laughs. 

Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “Evidently they are. And they have a right to be. I’m just not the type to—”

“Steve,” Bucky interrupted again. “It was just one girl, just one date. There will be others.” 

Steve nodded, but said nothing. 

~+~

The death of Steve’s mother was a shock, even if they both knew it was coming. Tuberculosis wasn’t a cold. Bucky had hoped she would be alright again, because she’d been all Steve'd had. 

The funeral was a bleak affair and Bucky wanted to be anywhere but in the church. He wanted to grab Steve, like back when they were kids, and hold him close while he shook it out of his system.  
Steve slipped away before the whole affair was over.   
Bucky slipped away, too, as soon as his mom gave him the okay to do so. He knew exactly where Steve had gone. 

The apartment seemed both too full of Steve’s mom and too empty of it. Bucky tried not to think about it, but it was hard. He knew that Steve needed to get out of it and he also knew, like Steve, that there was no way in hell he could pay the rent without his mom’s income.   
Steve made that horrible stuff that they called coffee now and Bucky sat down on the couch. Trying not to look at him. 

“You are moving in with me, right?” he asked. “I wasn’t just saying it back on your porch to look good in front of the neighbors.”

Steve went still for too long of a moment, and Bucky was up and on his way to Steve in seconds. 

“I’m fine,” Steve said, which they both knew wasn’t true. 

“You’re coming home with me. Grab a few things, I’m gonna get the rest this weekend,” Bucky said. “You’re not staying here.” 

“You only have one bedroom, Bucky,” Steve protested. 

“There’s enough space for another bed.”

“Bucky—”

“Stop arguing.” Bucky grabbed Steve by the neck and pulled him in. Steve felt fragile in his arms—more fragile than usual—and he was trembling. Bucky held on tighter. 

~+~

Bucky’s landlord liked him enough to not rob them blind as soon as Steve moved in with him. Rent stayed pretty much the same. Bucky helped out around the building. It was fine. It was nice to come home to someone. Seeing Steve curled up on the bed and sketching was familiar and totally alien at the same time.  
They were constantly in each other’s space; the apartment was just so fucking small. 

Steve was making noises about helping out with the rent, but Bucky had really no idea how he would manage that because they were in the middle of a fucking depression and it wasn’t like he could help out at the docks. 

“You’re doing enough,” Bucky said, pulling his jacket off. 

“I’m here all day, Bucky. Every day.” 

“You cleaned and made diner, like a good wife,” Bucky replied, grinning. 

Steve gave him a look. He wasn’t in the mood. 

Bucky sighed. “If you find something, I won’t stop you from helping out, Steve. Jesus. But it’s hard out there.” 

“As if I didn’t know,” Steve replied. 

“And you can’t keep a steady job because you’re sick most of the time,” Bucky said. 

“So my only option is to be a bed warmer?!” Steve snapped. 

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked. He was getting irritated and he didn’t want to fight with Steve. He never wanted to fight with Steve, but they did it anyway. 

“Nothing,” Steve said, running a hand over his face. He looked tired and worn out. Bucky wondered if he was getting sick again. 

“It’s obviously something,” Bucky said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“It’s stupid. I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Steve said. 

Bucky was nearly ready to let it go, but… “It was the wife comment.” 

“What?” 

“The wife comment ticked you off. It didn’t bother you before,” Bucky said. “Does it bother you now?”

“No. Yes.” Steve closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. He looked delicate, his neck and his cheekbones and what Bucky could see of his fragile-looking collarbone. 

“Yes?”

“Yes, I don’t… I’m not your wife and I’m not useless and I’m not—” 

“Did someone say something stupid to you?” Bucky cut in sharply. Steve just looked at him. That was a ‘yes’, then. “You wanna tell me who so I can break their nose?” 

Steve laughed. “That would only make things worse.”

“Since when do you back down from a fight?” Bucky asked. 

“Sometimes it’s wiser to choose your battles. You keep telling me that. I finally listened,” Steve said, getting up from the bed. “And you and I both know that I’m not your… that we’re not…”

“Fucking,” Bucky concluded. 

Steve winced. “Yeah, that.” 

“Did someone come on to you?” Bucky asked, because the ‘bed warmer’ comment was still nagging at him. 

Steve looked away. “Let’s eat.” 

“Steve,” Bucky said. 

“And what if? I’ve been called worse than a whore.”

“Why are you so mad, then?” Bucky asked. Steve’s body was full of tension and anger and— “You were considering it!” Bucky hissed. “Are you insane?! I’ve seen the boys who do that and you don’t want to get involved with—” 

“I didn’t!” Steve said. 

“You did! I know you. Maybe only for a second, but you did!” Bucky replied. “That’s why you’re mad.” 

Steve clenched his hands to fists and then looked at Bucky. “We need the money.”

“No, we don’t,” Bucky said firmly. “I make enough. It’s not much, but it’s enough, and you need to stop being so stupid. Your pride gets in the way of common sense.” 

Steve sighed. “I know.” The tension bled out of him all at once and Bucky felt himself relax again. 

“Besides, once this is all over, you’re gonna be an artist and I, for one, have no problem with letting you pay for rent and food.” 

Steve smiled at him. “Let’s eat.” 

“Yeah.” 

~+~

War was raging across the Atlantic and people were wondering if it was any of their business what happened in Europe.   
Steve, of course, said they needed to do something. 

“Like what?” Bucky asked. 

“Like sending men to help,” Steve replied. 

“It’s not our war,” Bucky said. “Things are shitty enough as they are already and you want to send sons and brothers over there to fight for something that’s none of our business?”

“It would be the right thing to do,” Steve said. 

Bucky looked up and then grabbed the atlas. “Look, this is Germany. And it’s really fucking small. And it’s surrounded by a lot of countries. And most of those countries aren’t too happy with Germany right now. This war will exhaust their resources.”

“Maybe, but they already took Poland and they’re making friends with Russia and Italy,” Steve said. “Divide and conquer,” he added. 

“Jesus, I don’t want to talk about this,” Bucky replied. He really didn’t. He and Steve just didn’t see eye to eye on the whole war thing. Maybe because Bucky had already seen what war did to people and countries, had seen the aftermath and lived it, but Steve had only heroic stories of his father. You couldn’t understand the horror of war until you were fighting it, until it was fought on the streets you used to play on. 

“This is important,” Steve said. “What if we decide to join the war?”

“What if? It’s not like you can enlist,” Bucky said. 

“Why not?” 

“Cause you’re sick and small and I’m pretty sure there’s a weight requirement or something for soldiers, because you know they carry heavy stuff all the time.” 

Steve looked at him like he’d just said something really mean, but it was the truth and Steve had to see reason here. “You could enlist,” he said. 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to. Who would keep you out of trouble if I went across the Atlantic to fight the Germans?”

Steve huffed in irritation. “I’m not helpless.” 

“Maybe,” Bucky said. “But I’m the one who pays the rent. And I won’t see you living on the streets. Come on, I need to get some cigarettes and you could use some fresh air. Maybe we’ll find a nice dame for you. You really need to go out more.” 

Steve bit his lip in that irritating way, but Bucky wasn’t in the mood to ask any more questions. The army wasn’t an option right now. They were fine. The job by the docks was enough. As long as Bucky was able to feed and house them, they were fine. 

~+~

Steve got the odd job here and there and what didn’t buy them food bought them movie tickets.   
Bucky liked to go to the movies. He liked to take girls there, but he also liked to watch them with Steve. 

Steve was a bundle of excitement every time they left the theater and he would talk a mile a minute. Bucky just listened, mostly. Sometimes he threw in a comment or two to let Steve know he was listening.   
The newsreels about the war in Europe made Bucky uncomfortable and Steve… restless, maybe. Bucky knew that Steve tried not to talk about it, because Bucky didn’t want to talk about it.

But it was looming over their heads and Bucky was sure it would crash down sooner or later. 

~+~

Soldiers were paid better than other people, but that was only fair, Bucky thought, since they were laying down their lives.   
There were three kinds of soldiers at basic training: the desperate, the crazy, and the patriotic.   
Bucky was in the first group. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to fight a war. He didn’t want to die. It wasn't like he had a say in this. You got drafted, you went to war, or you went to prison. He honestly didn't know which would be worse. 

For all that they couldn’t be called boys anymore, they sure as hell weren’t men yet, either.   
They were all doomed. 

The only good thing was that Bucky knew Steve, at least, was safe. The army had turned him down. Bucky had known they would.   
Most of his pay he sent to Steve. Steve needed the apartment and food, and Bucky didn’t need more than cigarettes. Everything else was provided. 

He missed girls, and he missed Steve and the way their apartment smelled in summer or winter, or really on any given day. 

“For someone who doesn’t want to be here,” one of the guys said, “you sure as hell make a good soldier.” 

It was true, he was a good soldier. He was good with a sniper rifle too. And that was one thing Bucky would have liked to not know about himself. 

~+~

Bucky heard the scuffle and knew that it was Steve again. The cinema they were supposed to meet at was just a few steps away. He sighed. He didn't even care why Steve got into a fight again. It was like Steve couldn't help himself.   
He watched it for a few moments before it was clear that he had to step in. The guy Steve had been fighting— or, more accurately, the guy who was beating Steve up—hurried away as soon as Bucky kicked his ass and then Bucky looked at Steve who was getting up from the ground. 

“Sometimes I think you like getting punched,” he said.

“I had him on the ropes,” Steve replied, wincing. It wasn't too bad, Bucky concluded as he picked up the enlistment form. 

“How many times is this?” Bucky asked, but he wasn't even sure Steve was listening; he was spitting blood on the ground while Bucky gave him the speech again. 

And then Steve looked up. “You got your orders?” 

“The 107th,” Bucky said. He knew that Steve's dad had been in that one and hoped it wasn't some kind of bad omen. “Sergeant James Barnes shipping out for England next thing tomorrow.” 

He wanted to spend his last day home with Steve.

“I should be going,” Steve said. He looked defeated. Bucky hated that look on Steve's face. It meant trouble. The words drove home, more than anything else, that he would be alone over there and that Steve would be here, probably (most likely) still trying to enlist, still taking on guys twice his size and that Bucky wouldn't be able to help him. He grabbed Steve and pulled him in for a hug before he made himself loosen the grip.

“Come on, man, my last night. Got to get you cleaned up.”

“Why? Where are we going?” Steve asked. He smelled a bit like the garbage cans he had been kissing moments ago. 

“The future,” Bucky said, handing Steve the paper. He had organized a double date because that was what he did when he wanted to spend time with Steve and kiss someone at the end of the night. He wasn't looking into his motives too closely. 

~+~

He didn't stumble home, but he wasn't as quiet as he could have been, either. He was keyed up. The dancing and the nice blowjob at the end of the night should have tired him out, but… this was his last night and Steve had ditched him to try and enlist again. 

When he opened the door, Steve was sitting at the kitchen table. “You made it home safely,” Bucky said, throwing the keys on the table. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “You too.” 

“You ditched me and your date,” Bucky replied, sitting down opposite Steve. 

“She didn't want me to be there and I had to try Bucky. I had to.” 

Bucky ran a hand over his face. Suddenly he was feeling tired. They’d had versions of this conversation god only knew how many times. It was fucking war and Steve… Bucky shook his head. 

“Okay,” Bucky said. 

“Bucky—”

“I don't want to have this conversation again, okay?” 

Steve nodded. “I already washed up.” 

Bucky got up to grab his toothbrush, towel and soap. “Steve…” he said at the door, not turning around.

“Yeah,” Steve said, because he knew Bucky like Bucky knew him and Bucky didn't have to ask for it. 

Bucky nodded and made his way to the shared bathroom.   
When he got back, teeth freshly brushed and face scrubbed clean, Steve was already under the covers. The bed wasn't really big enough for two people, but Steve was small, so they fit just fine.   
Bucky just couldn't sleep alone tonight.   
They usually only shared the bed in late autumn and winter when it got too cold in the apartment. Bucky always worried about Steve then the most, because his colds still were fucking life-threatening.

Sometimes Bucky crawled into bed with Steve when he was drunk, too. Waking up in the morning in the wrong bed, curled around Steve and not knowing why he was there. Steve sometimes gave him a strange look over breakfast, but never said anything. On the one occasion that Bucky had asked if it was bothering him, he had said no.   
Bucky reasoned that Steve felt it when he climbed into bed with him and could have easily just left Bucky there and gone to sleep in Bucky's bed. It probably wasn't proper behavior, but it worked for them and— 

“Stop thinking and go to sleep,” Steve said, interrupting his musing. 

Bucky curled around Steve's small, fragile body and took a deep breath. Smelling Steve, familiar from their childhood days; it always calmed Bucky down.   
He wanted to ask if Steve would be there the next morning when he woke up, but where else would Steve be? 

“I'm gonna send you money,” Bucky said, yawning. 

“I know,” Steve replied. 

“It's gonna be fine, Steve,” Bucky said. 

“I know,” Steve repeated. There was something in his voice that would normally make Bucky pay attention. A part of him was registering it now, too, but the bigger part of him was already drifting off to sleep. He would ask about how Steve's enlistment went tomorrow, he thought dimly, and then he was out like a light.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Icalynn (First three chapters). Linzorz (Chapters 1-6). All my love and thanks.

**Part Two: During the War**

_~One~_

Europe, Bucky thought, should have probably felt like home. But the simple truth was, it wasn’t anymore. 

Great Britain was a foreign land: war-scared and dangerous.   
He wasn’t the only one who thought so. Jones, for one, Bucky knew, hated it here. But if you got drafted, you went. Bucky liked Jones; he was smart and witty and Bucky could give less of a fuck that Jones was a black guy.   
Bucky had worked with black guys at the docks. Some of them were assholes, but then some of the white guys were, too. 

“No one actually admits to being drafted,” Jones said, handing Bucky a cigarette. 

Bucky nodded his thanks and lit it. He took a deep drag and exhaled slowly. “But you can tell anyway.” 

“Most cases, yeah. You can see it in their eyes, when they want to be here. At least for the first few weeks. Fucking bright eyed patriotic idiots.” Jones took a drag of his own cigarette. 

Bucky thought about Steve and was glad, again, that there was no way in hell Steve would join this war. Steve was one of those bright eyed patriotic idiots. “Like Jimmy there,” he continued, nodding in Jimmy’s direction. 

Bucky knew Jimmy. Tried not to know Jimmy, but Jimmy— he reminded Bucky a bit of Steve.   
Bucky knew what Jones was thinking. He was thinking that Jimmy wouldn't make it even six months.   
Bucky really hoped Jones was wrong about it. 

“I got drafted,” he said. “Lied about it to—”

“Your girl?” Jones asked. 

“Nah… My best friend. He’s one of those patriotic idiots.” 

“I didn't lie about it, but…” He shrugged. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said, because he understood. They looked over at Jimmy and smoked their cigarettes in complete silence. 

~+~

Bucky was very aware that, if Jimmy kept up trying to be his friend, Bucky would give in, and Jimmy was trying very hard. 

“Kid likes you,” Jones said. Bucky handed him a mug of coffee. He didn't care that Jones was a black guy, but a lot of the soldiers around them did and they always made Jones wait. “If it were a girl I'd say he has a crush on you.” 

“Good looking devil that I am,” Bucky said. 

Jones laughed. He looked at Jimmy again and Bucky followed his eyes. 

Jimmy was listening to something Morita was saying, but sometimes his eyes found Jones and Bucky and they lingered a fraction too long. Like the eyes of the rent-boys at the docks.

“You say I can't blame the kid, hm?” 

Bucky shrugged. “He's just a kid. No idea what he sees in me that he wants to grow up to be.”

“Your good looks.” 

Bucky smiled, but he also wondered. “Nothing short of a deal with Satan can give you this face.” 

Jones drained his coffee and put the tin mug down. “You have someone back home?” 

“Not really,” Bucky said, because he didn't make promises to any of the girls he had dated before he shipped off to England. Wouldn’t have been fair. 

Jones gave him a look. “Don't tell me then.” 

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“The letters that make you grin like a crazy person?” Jones asked. 

“They’re from my friend Steve,” Bucky replied. “I’ve known him forever. He taught me English.” 

“You not from the States?” 

“Romania,” Bucky said. “I have it on good authority that there’s no foreign accent to speak of anymore, except when I swear.” 

“So, this is like coming home to you.”

“Is visiting Africa like coming home to you?” Bucky shot back. 

“Point taken. Sorry.” 

Bucky rubbed his finger against the rim of the mug. “It's fine. I got crap from the other kids when we first came to the USA. Steve was the only one who didn't care about the accent.” 

“He's a good friend.” 

“Yes, he is,” Bucky said. “You have someone back home?”

“Yeah,” Jones said. “Her name is Mary.” 

Bucky made an encouraging noise and Jones started to tell him about how he met Mary, and that he planned on asking her to marry him once this was all over. 

It occurred to Bucky then that he didn't have any plans except surviving the war and going back home to Steve. That wasn't very realistic.   
No one knew how long this war would last. Maybe Steve would meet someone in the meantime.   
Bucky felt a hard pang of… something, now that he entertained that thought. 

He didn't want to share Steve. 

~+~

“I have a job,” Steve's letter read. He didn't say what kind of job, only that it involved a lot of travel. So Bucky shouldn't wonder that Steve's letters would be coming from all over the country now.   
Bucky was glad that Steve had something to do, but he also wondered what had happened to their apartment. Was the rent still being paid or had Steve just packed up and left? 

And what about Bucky's stuff? True, it had never been much and there were only a few things he really cared about, but when Steve wasn't living there anymore, Bucky didn't have a home to go back to. 

He wrote Steve back, hoping it would reach him soon. Steve’s letters were pretty much the only ones he got, besides those from his parents, on a regular basis. It was a piece of home. Something to put under his clothes at night.   
Bucky didn’t write Steve about the horrors of war. Sometimes he wondered if he maybe should. Maybe if Steve heard from him how he killed people, how people were dying, how the battlefields… But the truth was, he thought, the truth was that he didn’t want Steve to know these things first-hand. 

“I know you’re skirting around it all,” Steve’s next letter read. Bucky huffed out a laugh. Steve was one to talk. He still hadn’t told Bucky what kind of job he was doing. 

He was tempted to write back and ask if Steve was a kept man now, but he remembered that one time that had come up and he knew that Steve would never do that. Not for money. No matter if the person offering was a man or a woman. So Bucky didn’t even joke about it.   
“I’ll tell you all the grisly details when you tell me what kind of job you’re doing all over the country,” Bucky wrote back. 

He held Steve’s letter to his chest at night. It made him breathe easier. 

~+~

Bucky would like to tell himself that he didn’t know how he had ended up here, but that would be a lie. 

He knew exactly how it had happened. They’d had a minor victory on the battlefield (no one had died) and there’d been a pub open and he’d gotten drunk. Not too much. Just enough. He’d bummed a smoke from Jones, who seemed to have an endless supply of them, and somehow Jimmy had slipped out with him.   
Jimmy had watched while Bucky had smoked in silence for a few inhales and exhales, and then Jimmy inched closer, all nervous but determined tension. 

Bucky had known then what this would be about and he had turned to Jimmy, looking at him. Jimmy had looked back. He looked scared, but not enough.   
Bucky had never done anything with another boy. He’d thought about it sometimes, but then the girls were so much easier and less scary and… normal. He’d liked them all. He still liked them. 

“Jimmy,” Bucky said and it was meant as a warning, but it came out raw and encouraging.

And then Jimmy was in his personal space, pushing him back against the wall. It was dark already and Bucky could hear the faint laughter and music from inside. His cigarette fell to the ground, only half-smoked. 

Jimmy looked at him again and then leaned in, no hesitation at all. Bucky thought that Steve would probably kiss like that. Throwing all his weight into it, all he had, and then Jimmy’s lips were on his and it was the most natural thing to kiss back, to correct the angle and make the kiss deeper. Jimmy was clutching at his jacket and Bucky pulled him closer, felt the firm hardness of this boy and tore his mouth away. It wasn’t because he was scared—although, to be honest, he was scared, just a bit. Not enough to stop.   
Jimmy leaned his head against Bucky’s chest. Panting, trying to control his breathing. 

“Not here,” Bucky said when Jimmy looked up at him, questioning. 

Jimmy smiled, kissed Bucky’s jaw and let go, stepped away. He ran a hand through his hair. “Let me know,” he said. He had a southern accent, something that made Bucky feel warm inside and that Bucky hadn’t noticed or maybe just hadn’t acknowledged before. 

~+~

It wasn’t love. 

Jimmy had tried to explain and rationalize it away one time when they had more than a stolen moment. Bucky had shut him up by pressing his lips against Jimmy’s in a demanding kiss. 

Bucky didn’t need explanation or rationalization. What Bucky needed—what Bucky liked—was Jimmy’s soft mouth against his, and his body warmth, the way his fingers curled around Bucky’s cock: slow and a bit hesitant at first but getting surer and firmer every time they did this. 

It didn’t feel wrong at all. 

~+~

“In ancient times, warriors were encouraged to take a fellow soldier as a lover,” Steve had said once, as he was reading or telling a story about Troy. 

“Why?” Bucky had asked. He’d been half-asleep by then, but perked up when Steve mentioned the lover bit. 

“They thought a soldier would fight harder for someone they loved. To keep the other person safe; to try and live another day so they could be together,” Steve had said, curling slightly into Bucky’s body. 

Bucky remembered this now when he was thinking about Jimmy, about the softness of the skin at the small of his back, about his childhood scars that he now knew as well as Jimmy did. 

He hadn’t thought anything about that story back then. It was no stranger than those about mermaids and centaurs. It made a certain amount of sense. You would want to fight for someone you loved. Bucky had always felt fiercely protective of Steve.   
Steve and Bucky were brothers-in-arms on the battlefields of childhood and playgrounds. Schoolyards and back alleys.   
It hadn’t meant anything more back then, but now… Now, Bucky wondered if maybe he hadn’t just loved Steve, but if he’d always kind of been in love with Steve. 

His heart beat a bit faster in the darkness of his tent. Like that one time Steve had grabbed his hand in the makeshift blanket-and-cushions fort when they were kids.   
Maybe that was the reason why, when he imagined returning home, it was always an image of Steve and not a place that came to mind. 

~+~

There were always rumors, always. And Bucky heard them, too. 

Jones handed him a cigarette and stared at the fire. “Makes you wonder what you signed up for,” Jones said, taking a drag. 

“You believe that?” Jimmy asked. He wasn’t a smoker, which Bucky kinda liked about the kid. 

Jones shrugged. “The war is horrible enough. Why would anyone imagine things that were even worse? Experiments and weapons—”

“The Nazis experiment on humans,” Arents threw in. “Fucking pigs.” 

Bucky knew that Arents’s grandparents were from Germany; it was why he’d joined the war. 

“Can’t imagine it,” Jimmy said. “It sounds like something out of a science fiction novel.” 

And Bucky had to agree with him. The rumors were just too outlandish. Not the experiments, though. He was pretty sure that any scientist who could experiment on humans without the fear of punishment would do it. After all, there was a certain point you could reach (Bucky had reached for it time and time again in the last six months), where the people who you were going to torture and kill stopped being people and started being targets. Faceless, nameless things.   
The only thing he had going for him was that he was one of the good guys. On the right side of the war. 

“It’s a fact,” Arents said, “The Germans always were inventive.” 

“If they’re so smart, then why are they following a madman?” Jimmy shot back. 

“Not everything is black and white,” Jones said, exhaling smoke. 

Jimmy looked like he wanted to say something, but then just shut his mouth and nodded. It was true, after all; not everything was just black and white, and weren’t they following orders just like the Germans? Weren’t they eating up the propaganda just the same?   
Bucky wished he could just stop thinking about it, because thinking about it made him crazy. 

~+~

He and Jimmy didn’t talk about the war, or the scary new weapons the Nazis supposedly had, when they were together like this. 

Bucky sometimes thought that Jimmy would like to but, really, these moments of carnal pleasures were rare enough and Bucky didn’t feel like spoiling them with talk of war. They could do that with the others while they drank the stuff that was called coffee now and huddled around a fire. 

He let Jimmy tell him about his small southern hometown. About his parents and three sisters. About his dog, Spot, that he’d had since he was a kid. 

“You are a kid,” Bucky said. 

“Twenty,” Jimmy replied. “I don’t think you would do the things you do with me if I were a kid.”

“Old enough for war,” Bucky said, kissing the top of Jimmy’s head, because sometimes he felt tender towards Jimmy. “Old enough for sex.” 

“Don’t I wish everyone was as wise as you,” Jimmy said. 

“All this and brains too,” Bucky joked and kissed Jimmy again, hard and demanding. They still had roughly twenty minutes left and it would be wise to use them to get each other off. 

“Yeah,” Jimmy said and then paused, biting his lip.   
Bucky’s hand was on his cock and he was kissing Jimmy’s neck lightly, because neither of them could leave any bruises. Jimmy’s hand tangled into his hair and he pushed Bucky’s head down and then pulled it up again, gently so Bucky would look at him. He was still biting his lip. 

“What?” Bucky asked. 

“Suck me?” Jimmy exhaled in a rush. 

Bucky paused. He hadn’t done it before—he’d always used his hand—but Jimmy had. It was only fair, he supposed. “Can’t promise it’ll be any good,” Bucky said, opening Jimmy’s pants. 

Jimmy’s breath hitched as Bucky leaned down and kissed the tip of his cock. 

~+~

Jones sometimes gave him looks like he wanted to say something, like he knew. He probably did, but he also didn’t care. Didn’t care enough, maybe, to say anything about what Jimmy and Bucky were doing during those stolen moments. 

Bucky was fiercely protective of both Jones and Jimmy, but he looked out for Morita too. They were misfits and Bucky had always had a soft spot for those.  
He had their back and they knew it, and they had his.   
That was how it worked. That was how they got out and back to base alive. 

So it didn’t really sink in until they were beaten and bleeding, behind bars, how this mission could have gone so horribly wrong.   
He could see Jimmy in one of the other cages and if he could, he would have held Jimmy’s hand now, not giving a fuck about what the other men thought. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t reach Jimmy. 

Jones gave him a look and then looked away. Bucky stared at Jimmy’s face until the guards dragged him away.


	5. Chapter 5

_~Two~_

When they came for him, he fought, even though he knew it was useless and that he was outnumbered, but he fought, because he was sure that his life depended on it.   
Everyone knew that those who were dragged away like this weren’t heard or seen from again.   
It was better to be used as cheap labor. To build their weapons. At least those men had still a fighting chance. 

Jimmy called out his name and was silenced by someone the hard way. 

It was the last thing that really registered. Jimmy’s torn and anguished face, Bucky’s name on his lips and the darkness that everything around them was painted in, now.

~+~

First, there were questions. Pretty standard, Bucky thought, but he was also sure that the men in lab coats didn’t want, need, nor expect any answers. That wasn’t why they were here. That wasn’t why Bucky was here. 

He felt like a character in one of those science fiction novels he used to read as a kid—and, really, as an adult—but he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to stomach them after this… If he survived whatever they were planning to do to him. 

The room smelled like a sick ward. And Bucky didn’t have much hope to get out of there alive.   
When the pain came he wasn’t prepared for it at all. He’d thought he would just grit his teeth and bear it, but it was too much. He screamed until he couldn’t anymore. He screamed until he passed out. 

He didn’t know how long it lasted. Maybe hours, maybe days. It felt like years.   
He couldn’t breathe and he wondered if that was how Steve had felt all his life when the asthma hit him hard.   
He didn’t want to think about Steve here. This was no place for Steve. 

This, here, felt like the devil’s backyard. 

~+~

When Steve came for him, Bucky was sure he was hallucinating.   
Steve couldn’t be here and Steve couldn’t be this.   
Steve’s hand on his face felt real and hot, so hot, it was like he was burning, but maybe it felt that way because Buck was so cold. 

“I thought you were dead,” Steve said. 

“I thought you were smaller,” Bucky replied stupidly. 

Steve’s hands were around him, warm and firm and big. And he was helping Bucky walk. It was so backwards, so alien that Bucky didn’t know what to do with it.   
With every step they took away from that horrible room he found he was getting stronger. Maybe it was adrenalin, maybe it was Steve.   
Maybe this was a fucking dream and he was dying but, if it was, Bucky didn’t mind. 

But if it wasn’t a dream, then he had questions. A lot of them. 

He could hear people fighting outside and realized that most of his questions would have to wait for when they made it back to camp. He had the urge to touch Steve, to make sure that he was real. He wanted Steve to touch him, to just squeeze his arm: then he’d know that he, himself, was real too.   
He shoved all that away, because the priority was to get out. 

“What about the others?” Bucky asked. 

“I freed them first, Bucky,” Steve answered. “They’re fine.” 

It was a lie. Steve couldn’t know that. They maybe had been when Steve opened the cage doors, but… “There was a boy,” Bucky said. “His name is Jimmy.”

Steve looked at him. “I don’t know. I just… I left them. I had to find you. No matter what, I had to find you.” 

Bucky nodded. Steve had hoped, because that was what Steve did, but he had been preparing himself to find Bucky’s corpse and bring it home. “Steve.”

“You would’ve done the same for me,” Steve said. And they both knew it was the honest-to-god truth. “We need to go.” 

“Yeah, lead the way,” Bucky said and followed Steve. 

~+~

When they made to leave the remains of the German base, Jones was the first one Bucky found. He grabbed Jones hard and pulled him into a hug. Jones hugged back just as hard. 

“You know that guy?” Jones asked, nodding at Steve. “Calls himself Captain America.” 

“He read too many hero novels as a kid. It messed with his brain,” Bucky replied. Jones laughed. People turned their heads to look at their small group. 

“We need to get going,” Steve said. 

“Right,” Jones replied, stepping away. 

“Have you seen Jimmy?” Bucky asked. 

“He was one of the first to grab a gun and run,” Jones said. 

“Fuck.” Bucky ran a hand through his filthy hair. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Steve assured him. 

“You can’t know that!” Bucky snapped. 

“Bucky—”

“You can’t,” Bucky said stubbornly. 

“We need to get the wounded into vehicles and get to base camp,” Steve replied. 

Jones nodded . “We’ll be ready in a few, Captain—”

“Rogers,” Steve said. 

Jones nodded again and then was sprinting away. 

“‘Captain’ Rogers… Does that come with the dashing uniform?” Bucky asked. 

“It sure as hell did,” Steve said. “Are you okay to walk, or—”

“At your side, Steve.”

“Like always,” Steve replied with a smile. 

Forever, Bucky thought, but didn’t say it. 

~+~

Bucky still hadn’t found Jimmy, but there were too many men and they needed to make it back to base and soon. Maybe Jimmy was among the wounded. The best way to help him, then, would be to get him a doctor as soon as he could. 

Steve was pushing them as hard as he dared. Bucky stole glances at him sometimes. He was bigger than Bucky now—not by much, but still—broader and… radiant. It was fucking with his mind. 

“Stop staring. I feel like a freak at a side-show,” Steve said. 

Bucky stared straight ahead as he asked, “So this is what you were doing? Volunteering as a lab-rat.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Steve said and then told Bucky about how he met the doctor, how he signed up and about HYDRA and the great American tour. 

“You basically lived with twenty good-looking dames,” Bucky said. 

“Trust you to take that from my story. And it’s really not as glorious as you might think.” 

“Don’t even try to tell me they didn’t want to eat you up,” Bucky said. 

“I’d rather be liked for my personality,” Steve said. “Besides, I met someone.” His face lit up with a smile when he told Bucky. 

“Oh,” Bucky said. He had always wanted that for Steve, so why did it hurt now to hear those words? “What’s her name?” 

“Peggy,” Steve answered. “She’s English.” 

“Like that tells me anything about her, Steve,” Bucky said. 

“You’ll meet her soon enough. She’s at camp.” 

“Is she a nurse?” 

“No, she’s an agent.” 

“An agent?” 

“Yes,” Steve said and then told Bucky about how Peggy Carter had punched a guy in the face the first time he saw her. 

Of course, Bucky thought. Of course. 

~+~

They set up camp when it was impossible to see where they were going. Steve was swamped by the men he rescued and Bucky took that opportunity to look for Jimmy. 

It was Morita who pointed him in the right direction. “He’s among the wounded,” Morita said. 

“How bad?” 

“Bad,” he answered. 

Bucky didn’t dare ask if Jimmy would make it through the night. He knew he had to see Jimmy. He didn’t know if it would be better than the last time, if it would be better to have this image as the last of Jimmy… Shit, he shouldn’t be thinking like that. Jimmy could still make it. 

Bucky wasn’t a great believer and he had already gotten his own miracle. Steve was here. Steve came for him.   
It was a well-known fact that god gave with one hand and took with his other .   
When he found Jimmy, he was sleeping. Morita had been right. It was bad. He’d been shot more than once, and Bucky could see the life seeping out of him, one drop of blood at a time.

He grabbed Jimmy’s hand, which was cold to the touch, and sat beside him. Prayed and hoped.   
At some point, someone put a scratchy blanket around his shoulders, and he looked up. 

It was Jones. It looked like he wanted to say something, but then he just shook his head.   
“Morita says he fought bravely.” 

“We both knew he was a patriotic fool,” Jones replied, gently. He sat down next to Bucky. 

“I don’t know if he’s going to make it,” Bucky whispered. 

Jones put an arm around him. Bucky didn’t give into the need to be comforted. “It’s a war,” Jones said. “We just have to make sure now that we win it fast, so no one else dies.” 

Bucky nodded. A lot of men had already died; women and children, too. But this felt worse because he knew Jimmy in ways he didn’t know any other person on earth.

“Yeah,” Bucky said and squeezed Jimmy’s cold, clammy hand tighter. Jones stayed with him a bit longer but then got up and left them alone in their corner of the woods. 

Bucky slipped into an uneasy and light sleep, where images of the torture chamber flickered behind his eyelids. 

Jimmy didn’t wake up when Bucky kissed his cold lips the next morning. The world was strangely quiet around him for a few moments and then it all came rushing back like a wave and he had to close his eyes against the pain, but it didn’t help. He breathed the cold morning air and it burned his lungs, made him gasp. 

“Bucky,” Steve said gently above him. He looked up. “Bucky, he’s dead.”

“I know,” Bucky said. 

“Let go,” Steve whispered. 

Bucky couldn’t. It just wasn’t happening. If anything, his fingers closed harder around Jimmy’s. “We can’t leave him here. He had a mom and dad and sister! A dog—”

“We won’t leave him here,” Steve said and then he was crouching in front of Bucky. Filling up his whole vision, his whole word, except where his fingers were still clutching the boy he had loved. Because now that it was too late, he knew that he had loved Jimmy. He wondered if Jimmy had known. He wished he’d said it at least once. “He was a good soldier.”

“You didn’t know him!” Bucky hissed. “He was a stupid kid who got himself killed. He signed up for this. For this hell.” 

“You did, too,” Steve said. 

“No, I didn’t. I lied. I didn’t,” Bucky breathed. 

Steve pulled him close and he let go of Jimmy’s hand in the process. Steve’s warmth was seeping into him. It made him hurt. It felt like he had been frozen and now, with Steve there, pressing into him, enveloping him, he was being thawed. And it wasn't a pleasant feeling at all. 

“You think I care?” Steve asked. 

“You always wanted this,” Bucky said. “Look at him, you still want this?” 

Steve didn’t reply, just held him closer. 

Bucky knew he still thought it was the right thing to do. To be here, to fight the good fight, but then Steve hadn't known Jimmy. Hadn't loved Jimmy. Hadn't lost Jimmy. 

He clung to Steve harder until he was able to let go and face the hell around them. 

~+~

The nightmares weren't really a surprise. A lot of the guys had them. Bucky's were about that room and about Jimmy.   
Steve gave him looks, the mornings after. 

“I'm fine,” Bucky said, before he got up and went down to grab a mug of coffee and something to eat. 

“You are not,” Steve said, joining him. “Want to talk about it?” 

“You ask all of the guys that? Or am I special?” Bucky asked. It was meant as a joke, a means to let it go. 

Steve was looking stubbornly ahead as he said, “You are special.”

Bucky swallowed and it seemed too loud in the chilly morning stillness. “I don't want to tell you about it.” 

“You don't have to protect me anymore,” Steve replied, like that was the issue.

“Don't you think I know that? I just have to look at you and I’m instantly reminded that you don't need me anymore.” 

Steve stopped dead in his tracks and then grabbed Bucky's arm, made Bucky look at him. He didn’t have to look down to meet Steve’s eyes anymore. It was such a mindfuck. “I’ll always need you,” Steve said. 

And, fuck it all, Bucky really wanted to kiss him in that moment. He punched Steve in the arm instead. Not too gentle either. “I bet you didn't even feel that.” 

“I did. I feel it all, it just… It heals a lot faster,” Steve said. “Bucky—”

“I get it. You need me. I get it.”

“You’re my best friend, Bucky. I trust you with my life.”

“You’re my best friend, too,” Bucky said, because it was the truth and the rest wasn't important right now. “I'll have your back.” 

“Like always,” Steve said. 

Forever, Bucky thought. 

~+~

There were moments in which Bucky wanted to hate Peggy Carter, but it was really hard. She was like him, in a way. Seeing everything that Steve was and everything he could be if someone gave him a chance and, like Bucky, she would do anything for Steve. 

Bucky knew that it was her who helped Steve to sneak away so that he could rescue Bucky and all the other men.   
She was the brains when Bucky wasn’t around to get Steve out of trouble. Because, really, Steve was all impulse and righteousness. Leaping first, thinking later.   
Without Peggy's help, not one of them would have made it.   
He owed her and he gave her what he loved most. It didn't matter that she didn't know it. 

~+~

“You’d better marry her once this is over,” Bucky said one evening over whiskey. 

“I… Maybe. You think she would?” Steve asked. 

“Look at you. Would you just stop and look at you?”

Steve smiled. “All this and brains too.” 

“Wouldn't go that far, but you have your charms.” 

Steve laughed. It was loud and joyful and it filled Bucky with warmth. “You ever thought about what you would do once the war is over?” 

“I always assumed I’d go back home,” Bucky said. To you, he didn't say. He took another deep swig from his drink. “Speaking of, what happened to our apartment?” 

“It's still there. The government is paying for the rent.”

Bucky shook his head, smiling. “Of course. You’re Captain America, after all.” 

“Yeah, America’s favorite son right now,” Steve said. There was something in his voice that Bucky didn't like. 

“Let it go,” Bucky said. “It's not like you can go back to the way you were before.” 

“No, it isn't.” 

Bucky looked at him. His head was resting on his hands, the glass empty beside him. “Would you want to?”   
Bucky sometimes missed the small Steve. 

Steve thought about it for a while. “Sometimes. Yeah. I don't miss the shortness of breath when an asthma attack hit or the colds that always developed into something worse.”

“What do you miss?”

“Knowing that I was liked for myself and not this body.”

Bucky nodded and thought again: I’ve always loved you. “Peggy likes you despite your obvious flaws.”

Steve laughed and Bucky just soaked it up.


	6. Chapter 6

_~Three~_

There were changes, subtle at first, but not unnoticed. At least not by Bucky. His aim was better. He could see so much farther; when he reached that calm state when nothing mattered besides the shot, the target, he knew he wouldn’t miss. 

He had been good with a rifle before, but his aim was perfect now. 

If he’d stopped and thought about it, if he’d had the time (bullshit—even during a war there was time to think about something else. He’d done it with Jimmy) he would’ve come to the conclusion that they’d done something to him in that room. That they’d done something to his body. He kept it to himself. Maybe it was worth it, all that pain, if it made him better, stronger, faster. He could look out for Steve, because now that Steve had the body to match his recklessness he wasn’t holding back anymore. 

~+~

Steve wasn’t the only one who threw himself into the missions. Bucky hated those people, HYDRA, as much as Steve did, not only because they had tortured him, but also because Jimmy died because of them. 

It was a bit like a holy war for them. 

Jones, Bucky knew, kept him grounded. 

“You okay?” Jones asked, handing Bucky a cigarette. 

Bucky took it, nodded his thanks, and pulled out his matches. “Fucking cold seeps into everything,” he said, exhaling smoke. He couldn’t remember winters being so cold back home. 

“Talk to Stark. Maybe he has some handy gadgets for that as well,” Jones said. 

Bucky grinned. “Stark hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He tolerates you— like the rest of us.” Jones took a drag of his cigarette and exhaled slowly. “He thinks we’re all stupid.” 

“You know he’s right. We are all stupid. Steve asks us to go on a suicide mission with him and we cheerfully agree and clap ourselves on the back.” 

Jones looked at him then grinned. “We’ll be heroes.” 

If we survive, Bucky thought. On most days it was a very distant thought, because they were winning. Nothing ever went wrong. Every mission was planned and executed like it was child’s play. It was mostly skill, but a bit of luck too. It was the belief that nothing could go wrong as long as they had Captain America on their side. Steve was a symbol of hope and strength. Bucky knew for a fact that some people believed that Captain America could singlehandedly win the war. 

“And they’ll sing songs about us like in the old times,” he said. 

Jones laughed. It sounded loud in the morning stillness. But this place was secure, theirs for the day and the following night. 

Dernier cursed them from the tents in French like always, because he hated early mornings and they had more than enough of those. 

Jones replied and Dernier grumbled, but went back to sleep. 

“You know, by the end of this, we’re all going to be fluent in French,” Bucky said. 

“Steve is learning really fast,” Jones replied. 

“Probably the serum,” Bucky said, exhaling smoke. “But then, maybe not. He’s always had a knack for languages—he just hasn’t had anyone to teach him.”

“He knows Romanian,” Jones said. 

“My mom spoke Romanian with him, and he answered in English. It was adorable,” Bucky replied. “He was really tiny back then.” 

“Hard to imagine,” Jones said. 

“I know. You see him now and think there’s nothing that could break him, but…” Bucky shrugged.

“There’s always something that can break a man, Barnes,” Jones said. “It doesn’t have to be a weapon.” 

“I’m fine,” Bucky said, because he knew what Jones was talking about. 

“You haven’t talked about Jimmy once since his body was shipped back home.” 

“He’s dead,” Bucky said. “I can’t help the dead. I can, however, help the living. And that’s what I’m concentrating on.”

“But you and he were—”

“Yeah,” Bucky cut in, “We were. And now he’s dead and I can’t do anything about that, except for making the people pay who had a hand in his death.”

“When the war is over, you’ll have to face the grief,” Jones said. 

Once the war was over, Bucky thought, the grief would’ve probably been burned out of him. He finished his cigarette and threw the butt in the snow. “I’m gonna make coffee. You coming?”

“In a bit,” Jones said, holding up the last of his cigarette. 

Bucky nodded and went inside.

~+~

The most satisfying missions were those where they not only got to blow up a HYDRA weapons plant, but were also able to liberate prisoners. 

Not all of them made it, but a good portion did, and Bucky was endlessly relieved to see their faces among the living. Especially the young ones. Those that reminded him of Jimmy. 

~+~

Sometime during that endless seeming winter the nightmares stopped. 

Steve stopped giving him looks in the mornings and Bucky stopped seeing Jimmy’s features in every young soldier’s corpse they came across. 

People started to call them The Howling Commandos, for no reason Bucky could pin down. And the whole thing started to be sort of fun. Like Falsworth predicted all those weeks ago in that English pub. 

Every successful mission was a reason to celebrate. 

“You remember the morning after your sixteenth birthday?” Steve asked, pouring himself a drink. Steve never drank much and that hadn’t changed once he joined the army. Bucky, on the other hand, had been drinking a lot more after he’d been drafted. 

“How could I forget that? I was fucking miserable. I swore to never drink again.” 

“And look at you now,” Steve said. 

“Promises are made to be broken,” Bucky replied. 

“Not all of them,” Steve said. 

“What’s this about?” Bucky asked, sitting up straighter. 

“I was thinking about what you said. About Peggy.” 

Marriage, Bucky thought. That word gave him an odd pang in his chest when it was attached to Steve and someone else. Bucky knew that there was no way in hell he and Steve could ever… But— He shook it off.   
“Okay.” 

“Of course, I’m not sure if she’d want to live in England or in America, but that house we were talking about—”

“With the backyard and the dog,” Bucky cut in. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “It looks like a real possibility now.” 

“I’m not ready to settle down yet,” Bucky replied, taking a swig of his whiskey. 

“You could live with us,” Steve said. 

Bucky gave him a look. “You talk with Peggy about that plan?” 

Steve sighed. “I haven’t even kissed her yet.” 

Bucky laughed. “Rogers, I swear. You need any pointers? I thought I described it well enough back when I was dating Marla.”

“It’s not like I haven’t been kissed by anyone, at all,” Steve said. 

“I know. Pretty much every one heard about Private Lorraine.” Bucky grinned. 

“And Peggy’s reaction, I’m sure.” 

“We still respect you, Cap,” Bucky said. 

“Right.” 

“Don’t worry about it. She loves you. Everyone can see that, and she’s good for you.” He poured himself another drink. “You’ll probably have to learn how to cook, because she doesn’t strike me like the type.” 

“You and me got by just fine,” Steve said. 

“We did,” Bucky replied. 

~+~

There was an endgame here. They all knew it. For all the fun they had blowing up weapons plants, the longer this war went on, the more people died. 

Bucky didn’t know if the war would be won if they stopped HYDRA and the Red Skull, but he really wanted to get his fingers on Armin Zola. He didn’t think he hated anyone more than that short man, who looked so unassuming. Who’d watched him being tortured and had just scribbled down things on his notepad like Bucky wasn’t a human being. 

He knew, of course, that there was that point where people stopped being people and became things in your mind. He reached for that place when he was watching Steve’s—all of the Commandos’—backs. 

But he liked to think that it was a whole different game, what he did and what Zola did, not because he was in the right, but because he didn’t torture those people. They never even saw the bullet coming. It was a mercy to die painlessly and unaware. 

He had feared for his life on that table, at first, but by the third day (maybe the second, even) he had just wished for it to end. Maybe there was an afterlife, maybe there wasn’t, but at least the pain would end. 

When he looked into the mirror in the morning, if he looked, he could see the cracks in himself, those open spaces that were cut and pried and broken open and that he tried so hard to stitch together and smooth over. It wasn’t only for Steve’s or the others’ sakes; it was mostly for his own. He didn’t want to see the damage, but couldn’t always pretend it wasn’t there.

And he knew it was naïve, but maybe, just maybe, revenge would be the glue that would keep him together until the end of his days. 

Maybe something else could have been his glue if Jimmy hadn’t died. 

He couldn’t count on Steve to keep him together. Steve would marry Peggy once this was over. 

~+~

Things were slowly shifting inside Bucky. Before Jimmy died, before the room, he’d always thought he would just go home and lead a civilian life. Now, he wasn't so sure. Civilian life— what was civilian life? What could he possibly achieve if he left the army? 

If there was something Bucky knew, it was that there would always be a war and that the bad guys didn't stop being bad just because there was a lull between wars. 

He was good at what he was doing now. In fact, he was excellent at it. Maybe he would stay and keep doing just that. Go on missions, see the world between them, protect the people he loved.

~+~

“I'm invisible. This is a horrible dream,” Bucky said, watching Agent Carter leave the room. Everyone was watching her leave the pub. Everyone except for Steve. Steve's big hand was clasping Bucky's shoulder. 

“Maybe she has a friend,” he replied. There was amusement in his voice. 

Bucky sat down on his stool again. He poured another whiskey. Strange, but it didn't seem to affect him as much as it used to. 

“You know,” Bucky said. “This really fucks with me, sometimes.” 

“What?” 

“You.” 

“Bucky—”

“No, let me. I'm just drunk enough to do this.” 

“Okay,” Steve said. 

“It's in the way people look at you, and I don't only mean women. I mean everyone. You’re…” He emptied the glass and poured another one. “And you used to be this tiny guy. I could lift you up and press you down and curl around you—”

“Bucky,” Steve said, and his voice was soft. He wasn't embarrassed, maybe. Probably. Bucky couldn’t say. Bucky wasn't embarrassed. 

He looked at Steve, then. Fuck, but Steve's eyes were really blue and he was stupidly in love with Steve and he could never ever tell him. Ever. He’d take that secret into his grave and beyond. 

“No, listen,” Bucky said. “I liked being able to protect you. I liked being one of the few people who knew who you really were inside and—”

“Now you're a bit jealous?” 

Bucky shrugged and poured another drink, and one for Steve as well, because it was sad to drink alone. “Maybe. It's… It's just so different and I had no way to prepare for this. One minute I’m praying, I think I’m gonna die, and the next minute you're there and you're… this,” Bucky said, waving his hand at Steve. “It just fucks with me sometimes, is all.” He emptied the glass again. “But I'm glad you came for me. I am really fucking glad you came for me.” 

“I'm glad I came for you, too,” Steve said. “Bucky… What they did to you? The needle marks and the… restraints. What did they do to you?” 

Bucky grabbed the bottle and took a long swig. “Hell if I know.” 

Steve nodded. “I—”

Bucky put down the bottle and grabbed Steve's arm. “I'm fine. I mean, not ‘fine’ fine, but I'm here and I'm alive and I have your back and if I'm a bit screwed up because of it all… Well, that's war for you.” 

Steve's face fell. Shit, Bucky thought. “I know it's a war.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky said. Now you know, he thought, but it would have been cruel to say it. “Drink up, buddy.” 

Steve took the bottle from Bucky's hand and drank half of what was left inside. He looked at Bucky then, intense as god, Bucky thought, but then Steve shook his head and finished the bottle. 

~+~

Dernier cursed under his breath; Bucky was looking from him to Steve and back again to Dernier. 

This was the last weapons plant they knew of. With this one, there would only be Red Skull's Headquarters left. Not that they knew where the hell that was. 

But Phillips was a man on a mission, and Bucky was sure he would get it out of someone. 

Dernier cursed again. 

Gabe asked him a question and, to his surprise, Bucky understood the conversation that followed. It was like a switch had been turned and suddenly he knew French. He grinned. 

“What?” Dum Dum asked. 

Bucky grinned. “I understand French.” 

Dum Dum shook his head. “Tell Dernier to hurry the fuck up, then, because I'm freezing my balls off and—” 

Steve looked at Dum Dum, who grinned at him.   
“He knows,” Steve said. 

Bucky nodded. They just had to wait for Dernier to finish whatever the hell he was doing and maybe, Bucky thought, maybe he should sit down with Dernier one of these days and ask him about one or two things. 

Knowing your explosives wasn't only useful in the army. 

Dernier nodded once sharply and Steve gave the signal. 

“See you on the other side,” Dum Dum said. 

Morita saluted sloppily and they were off. Bucky reached for that calm that made him feel like he was carved out of ice. 

Let it settle over him and watched his unit's backs. 

~+~

“That's the breakthrough we were waiting for,” Colonel Phillips said. “Armin Zola will be on that train and you gentlemen will stop him from whatever he is going to do and bring him here.” 

Bucky clenched his hand to a fist on the table. Steve gave him a look out of the corner of his eye.   
Bucky made himself relax. He wanted to squeeze the breath out of that little man's neck. He wanted to strap him down and do everything that was done to him, even if he didn't know exactly what had been done to him. 

~+~

Steve didn't ask him if he was okay once they left the conference room. He wasn't. 

“I don't want to let him live,” Bucky said, exhaling smoke and looking up at the gray English sky. He could feel Steve beside him. 

“I don't want to either, but it's not our decision,” Steve said. 

“You know that’s what’s really awful about the army.” 

“That and the food. Bucky…” 

And Bucky turned to him, because he knew Steve and Steve knew him, or used to, before Bucky got all messed up and cold inside. “I won't accidentally kill him, Steve.”

“Okay,” Steve said. “I wouldn’t blame you.” 

“I know,” Bucky replied, finishing his cigarette. 

God, he wanted to, how he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. 

~+~

And this is how it ends, Bucky thought, and couldn’t think of any better way to die than while protecting Steve. 

He knew Steve wouldn’t be able to get to him this time. He could feel the metal give under his weight. 

There were so many things, so many important things he needed to tell Steve, but the wind was too loud and Steve was talking to him, like Bucky would let go, like he would… He wouldn’t. It wasn't in his nature to give up, to let go, no matter what, but he could feel himself slipping and there was no time. 

Two things, Bucky thought. 

Two things. 

One; I love you. 

Two; don't blame yourself. 

That one. The last one, but then the metal was giving away and he looked into Steve's face and the horror there probably matched his own. 

And he was falling and it was too late to say a goddamned thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the deal with this story: no one who offered to beta read it stuck around. I was trying to find someone, but that’s not happening for some reason, so I give up. Have the last parts un-beated. This was not an easy decision, but letting you guys hanging is worse. I’m sorry it took so long. I did my best to look it over, please let me know if you find any mistakes.

**Part Three: After the War**

_~One~_  
The Asset dreamed of falling.   
When he woke up in the dark, unfamiliar sounds of the fridge and the traffic outside filtering in, he could still feel the cold wind on his skin. A voice calling a name (Bucky, probably Bucky) and then darkness.   
He sat up and took a breath and wondered if he had ever dreamed before – in Cryo. He couldn’t remember, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.   
It was unsettling, that feeling of falling, that fear in is chest.   
That name echoing in his ears as the wind was ripping it away.   
He knew he needed to find out more about Bucky. 

~+~  
The Asset was staring at Bucky Barnes’ picture, larger than life, blown out of proportions and it was his face. It was his face.   
His metal fingers clenched at his side. He had the urge to smash the whole thing to pieces. He couldn’t remember this life.   
The short description of it wasn’t helping. But then it had been a short life. What more was there to say? He had been a kid and he died a hero, protecting Captain America and his country. The life and death of James Buchanan Barnes meant nothing to the Asset. Bucky wasn’t important to him right now, important was Steve.  
All he could think of was Steve Rogers: the man on the bridge.   
When Steve had called him Bucky (was that his name? could it be his name again? Would it matter in the long run?), it had been Steve, he had fought Steve.   
And later when he and Captain America were standing on that Helicarrier he had been fighting Steve too.   
Suddenly he wished he could remember if he had ever fought Steve before.   
Wished to know why it mattered.   
Wished his head wasn’t so cramped with – things.   
There were pictures and videos of Bucky and Steve, he looked at them all. Pretty much everything was from the war.   
Even then – when Bucky looked at Steve and Steve looked at Bucky, like they were sharing one world, one private joke and secret after another.   
Was that the reason he had paused when Steve said his name? The reason he had hesitated before he shot? The reason he dived into that dark river and pulled Steve out?   
The pictures said it all: yes. 

~+~  
I wasn’t too hard to find shelter and food.   
He needed to think.   
Things the Asset knew:   
They were coming after him (SHIELD, HYDRA, Steve).  
There were HYDRA cells all over the country and world.   
He wasn’t ready to see or talk to Steve. 

Knowing these things gave him options. When he was lying in bed and staring at the ceiling in the dark, trying to get used to the normal goings and comings of the world outside his motel room, he could feel the rage in his veins.   
The thing was, he knew, the thing was he was a soldier. Whatever he had been before the war, he wasn’t anymore. Even Bucky (smiling at Steve), hadn’t been the boy that left Brooklyn. He had been a soldier: Sergeant Barnes. Of the Howling Commandos.

Now he was a soldier without a command chain. Rouge. But a soldier. The Soldier even. He was giving himself a mission.   
Destroying HYDRA. It felt familiar that thought. The rage at these people, too. Sometimes these things settled into his bones like they belonged there.   
He looked at them from all angles to see where they came from. If he could find out if they were something he had thought and felt before, or something that had been programmed.   
He looked at it and if it was feeling right he was following it.   
Gut feeling. 

His mission wouldn’t be a new one, then. Bucky (he would use that name, because he wasn’t anyone’s Asset anymore) smiled in the darkness, he would just pick up where he left off all these years and lifetimes ago.   
The only difference would be that this time he would do it alone. 

~+~  
Best laid plans and all that, Bucky thought as the barrel of a gun was pressing into his neck. He was pretty sure he could take her, but he was also impressed with the skill, the sheer impossible fact that she sneaked up on him. 

“Well, fuck me,” a girl said, rounding the corner. She looked Bucky up and down and then smirked. 

“Not today,” Bucky said, smirking back. 

The girl laughed. “Elena, put down the gun. This guy hates HYDRA even more than you.”   
Elena wasn’t putting down the gun. Bucky couldn’t blame her.   
“Show her the arm,” the girl said. “Slowly.”

“No problem,” Bucky replied and did just that. 

“Winter Soldier,” Elena said. She had a slight Russian accent. 

“We heard about you,” the girl said. “That you went rouge and all.” 

“I’d like to think I’m back to the original mission,” Bucky replied. 

“I’m Maria,” the girl said. “That’s Elena.” 

“Bucky,” Bucky said, holding out his hand. Maria looked at it, shrugged and took it. Bucky didn’t try to use her as a hostage. 

“I think it’s safe to say he won’t kill us, Elena,” Maria said and Elena put down the gun.   
It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. 

~+~  
Elena signaled him. He nodded. He would have their backs, because he was still best with a rifle. It felt familiar and Elena and Maria had the hand-to hand down. These two took out people like – well, he smiled wryly like they were trained to do it.   
Bucky shot a strangler and Maria saluted sloppily in his direction. He could see her sharp smile through the scope. 

This was an intel and weapons gathering mission. They were low on ammo and explosives.   
Small fish, only ten guards all in all and they already dealt with half of them.   
Elena came out of the bunker half an hour later and Bucky broke down the rifle, got down and joined her. It was fucking hot and he longed for a shower and a cold drink. Something sweet and colorful. 

“What took you so long?” Bucky asked. 

“Shower,” Elena answered. She wasn’t a chatty one. 

It was all short, sharp answers with her. Sometimes he was sure she used one word sentences to piss people off. Bucky kind of liked that about her.   
“Taking one too,” Bucky said, handing over the keys to the car. “Won’t take long.” 

“I know,” she replied, taking the keys and marching off. 

Bucky ran a hand over his neck, feeling the itchy sweat there and wondering if she meant it as a reprimand  
Wondered why it should matter if she did.   
As he entered the bunker he just followed the noises Maria made. She liked to make noise when they weren’t in mortal danger. Right now she was singing, some Russian pop song Bucky had heard on the radio too many times.   
He didn’t tell her to stop. Her voice was decent and if her training was similar to his, she should have all the choices she should handle making.   
He stripped out of his clothes and got under the spray. 

“There is soap and shampoo,” Maria said, “Catch,” she added, throwing it at Bucky. 

He caught it effortlessly in his left hand. She smirked at him, only half covered by the shower curtain. “Thanks.” 

“Elena already packing up the car?” 

“Probably,” Bucky replied, starting to wash his hair. People were nicer and more helpful when you didn’t look or smell like you lived in your car. 

“She can’t relax,” Maria said. 

“She is efficient,” Bucky replied. 

“Aren’t we all,” Maria sighed. “You ever wonder what you will do once we’re done here?” 

They were on the road for months now. Taking out HYDRA bases all over Europe. Bucky knew that Captain America and his team were after HYDRA as well, but they had bigger fish to fry. Seemed the Captain always had bigger things at hand.   
“No,” Bucky said, which wasn’t the full truth. There were still HYDRA bases in Asia and Africa of course. The United States too. But he was sure The Avengers would take care of those in the USA. After that, what would he do after that? There was this pull of course to go back home – he knew home wasn’t a place anymore, but rather a person. 

“Liar,” Maria replied, lightly. 

“What are you going to do?” 

“Settle down with Elena,” Maria replied. Her voice was soft. “If she’s up for it.” 

“A house, garden, the white picket fence then?” 

“And a dog,” Maria said. “I’d like a dog.” She stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and her clothes. He could hear her moving around. It was comforting. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “I’d like one too.” He finished showering and shut off the water. 

She was done by the time he grabbed y towel. She was leaning against a sink and watching him dress. “You thinking about cutting your hair?” 

“No,” he replied, snapping the hairband into place. He looked into the mirror. A shave would be in order soon. “We have time? Or did Elena already set the explosives?” 

Maria handed him his electric raiser. ”She came by and said we have 20 minutes.” 

“Enough time then,” Bucky said, not even wondering how Elena sneaked by him. She was just that good. 

Maria crossed her arms over her chest. “You do clean up nicely.”

“Thanks I guess,” Bucky said, “Still think I would be shit at undercover missions.” 

She grinned. “We’re well aware you are the blunt force to our grace. That’s why we work so well.”   
Bucky nodded.   
“Hurry up, you know Elena is already itching to blow this joint,” Maria said, stretched and left him to finish shaving. 

~+~  
It wasn’t all driving endlessly and taking out HYDRA bases. Thanks to Maria they sometimes just spent time in a city, went sightseeing and to restaurants that were too expensive. 

“We need to take our pleasures where we can,” she said, licking melted ice-cream from her palm. “When we can. Life can’t be all about blowing up shit and going on revenge trips.” 

“I think we’ve done alright so far,” Bucky said. 

“Yes, we did,” Maria replied. “But-”

“There is always a but with you,” Bucky sighed.   
She gave him a look that said clearly how unimpressed she was with him. It was a whole new feeling to not be feared, to not even be taken seriously on some days. 

“As I was saying, but we have to plan for the future too and it's important to try and be real people, not only soldiers,” she looked at him and Elena. 

Civilian life, Bucky thought. Could he go back to civilian life? He finished his own lemon ice and looked up at the sky. “You think we can just go back to civilian life?”

“Do you not want to?” Elena asked, gently. 

“What would I do with myself?” It was a real question. He hadn't given much thoughts to when his mission was over, there was a vague plan to see Steve, talk, maybe. Steve was in his future, but he didn't think either of them was after the house, the picket fence and the dog anymore. After all Steve could have quit. He could have taken this new life and made it his own. Live a life where he wasn't Captain America. Only a handful of people knew back then that he was alive. 

“Find a job?” Maria asked. 

“I think, even back then, in the war, by the end of it, I didn't think I would be a civilian anymore. I think I was about to sign my life to the US Army.” Things were coming back to him sometimes in bits and pieces. 

“Instead your life was signed away to HYDRA,” Maria said. 

Bucky shrugged. It was the truth after all. But then without Zola and HYDRA, he would be dead. Now he had a whole new century and was still a young man and – fucking optimism, he thought wryly. It wasn't all bad in this brave new world.

“It's probably a good thing then that I can't remember most of it,” Bucky said 

“Ever the optimist,” Elena replied. 

“Wanna go see a movie?” Maria asked, suddenly.   
They looked at her.   
“What? This is our off day. This is all about fun. You like movies Bucky?” 

Bucky shrugged. “Depends on the movie.” 

“Let's go and see then what they're showing,” she grabbed his metal hand and pulled him along. Bucky wasn't sure if she even knew where the next movie theater was, but to be honest, he didn't really care. It was a nice day for a long walk too. Elena hummed beside him, slowly finishing her ice-cream. Bucky wondered if heroes had off days too. 

~+~  
“Well, that was a clusterfuck,” Maria said, brushing debris from her shoulders. 

“Understatement,” Bucky replied. 

She grinned. They were alive and mostly unhurt, but the weapons they could have used were gone too. So was all the data. 

“Should have known it would be rigged to hell and back,” Maria said. 

Elena nodded, displeased with the whole situation.   
After months on the road with Maria and Elena, off days and revenge days, he knew most of Elena's expressions. She was a friend, Bucky realized suddenly. Like was Maria.   
They weren't just strangers on the same mission anymore. They were comrades. 

“Makes you wonder what was hidden there,” Elena said. 

“It's gone now,” Maria shrugged. “No point in wondering about it. It's not like we have a time machine.” 

“I bet Stark will build it one day,” Bucky heard himself joking. 

“He's not that brilliant,” Maria huffed.

“He would probably disagree,” Bucky said. They had made it their business to know everything they could about the Avengers and HYDRA's files were surprisingly helpful in that department. Of course once they read and memorized what they needed they destroyed it all. No sense in having it lying around for someone to find. It wasn't like HYDRA was the only shady criminal organization around.   
It was just the one they had a really big grudge against. 

“He's so full of himself, I wonder how the rest of the Avengers can even stand him,” Maria said. She stretched and looked at Elena. “Car?” 

“Car,” Elena said. 

Maria tossed her the keys. Elena liked to spend a few minutes with just her own thoughts after a mission. The car was the safest option right now.   
Bucky took out his pack of cigarettes, lit one and watched Elena disappear into the woods. The outposts were usually somewhere nowhere and they had to leave the car and make their way by foot. 

“Should have gone with her,” Bucky said. “Makes no sense for us to sit around this time. I mean, the thing is rubble and dust. No way is anyone coming out of there.” 

“Better safe than sorry, because you know they are like cockroaches.” 

Bucky knew that. He had read up on 'Paperclip', what the SSR was thinking letting Zola – but Zola was dead. And Bucky was still here. Bringing HYDRA down.   
Bucky looked at the ruin of the underground base pointedly. Maria rolled her eyes. Bucky took another drag of his cigarette. Smoking was familiar. The first time he picked up a cigarette after – after Steve, after HYDRA, just after, it was a bit like coming home. Like getting a part of himself back. It didn't matter if that part had also once upon a time belonged to James Buchanan Barnes. 

“What harm can waiting for an hour do? I mean it's not like we have to be somewhere,” Maria said. 

“There are three other bases close by,” Bucky replied. Close by by their standards at least. 

“They will be there tomorrow still.” 

Bucky looked at the rubble and dust. “Or maybe not.” 

“They are rigged, they don't blow up by themselves. We just have to be a bit more careful.”

Bucky nodded. It wasn't that they were sloppy, it was maybe that they were too confident. There were countless bases like this one over the last year.   
There weren't that many left.   
On the other end of the world Steve was taking them out as well. Even if Bucky knew that Steve hardly bothered with these little outposts.  
Bucky finished his cigarette and threw the butt into the still smoking rubble. He wasn't concerned with leaving DNA on the crime scene. People who knew about this, who knew what this really was, knew it was The Winter Soldier anyway. By now the knowledge that he was rouge and on the hunt had spreed like wildfire. There had been some brave (o stupid) souls who had hunted The Winter Soldier in the beginning. Life became a lot easier once he teamed up with Maria and Elena. He looked at Maria then. 

“What?” 

“I'm glad we teamed up,” Bucky said. 

She grinned. “Me too, soldier boy, me too.” 

They grinned at each other stupidly until they heard Elena's steps. She let them hear her, they knew. 

“Time to go, another base, another adventure -” 

“Another step to winning,” Maria cut in. 

“Yeah.” But he thought they actually already did. 

“You two ready?” Elena asked, emerging between the trees. 

“Sure,” Maria answered. “Don't know why we even bothered it's all rubble and dust anyway.” 

Bucky rolled his eyes at her. “I'm driving.” 

Elena tossed him the keys.   
“You are not allowed to pick the music!” Maria said, as he was making his way back to the road. 

“Driver always picks the music.” 

“We need new rules. This is a democracy now,” Maria said. “Right, Elena?” 

“Yeah, but:” Elena said, “Driver picks the music.” 

Maria grumbled something, Bucky smiled to himself.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: This chapter was written before the new Cap 3 trailer came out.

_~Two~_

“Aren't we glad we were in Africa when this shit went down?” Maria asked, biting into her hamburger. They are back in the states. The Ultron disaster is all over the news. “Also, for the record, I'm blaming Tony Stark.” 

Bucky isn't so sure the word he would use would be 'glad'. Apparently Steve and the rest of his misfits did alright. But – maybe they would have done better with the Winter Soldier there, with Elena and Maria at their backs. Maybe then...

“You okay?” Elena asked, and Bucky's eyes snapped to her face. She didn't look concerned to a casual observer, but he knew her. She was his friend and more even. She, like Maria, was his sister. They were there for him when he woke up with the fear thick in his throat, they were there to spend restless nights with him staring at walls or trees or the night-sky. He was there for them too. 

“I'm not sure?” Bucky replied, taking a sip from his soda. 

“Is it the Captain?” Elena asked.

Bucky could feel Maria watching him. She was curious too.   
Elena always called Steve only the Captain. Never Steve never Captain America. Bucky never asked what that was all about.   
“Isn't it always?”

“No,” Elena said. “Sometimes it's HYDRA-”

“Pretty much always it's HYDRA,” Maria cut in, finishing her soda and reaching for Elena's. Elena shoved it over the table and Maria nodded her thanks, sucked on the straw noisily. 

“Or the million other issues I got, right,” Bucky said. “But yeah, it's Steve.” 

Elena nodded. “You want to see if he is doing okay?” 

“I- I know he is doing okay,” Bucky said, because he knew that. Over the last fifteen months they haven't only blown up HYDRA bases left and right, they had also build up a network. Had contacts, safe houses, colleagues of some sorts. Shady sometimes, but overall trustworthy, Bucky thought. And these people helped keeping Bucky in the loop. There were so many eyes on the Avengers right now. Everyone wanted to know what they would do next. Bucky knew that some of the people in power feared the Avengers, feared they could all snap and start taking over the world. As assumptions go – Bucky would only suspect Stark of that and even Stark had showed he could behave. Bucky wasn't sure if Steve was aware that some serious people were afraid of them, of Captain America and that it could get ugly. 

“Do you miss him?” 

Did he? “Sometimes,” Bucky said. He didn’t really know this Steve. He knew what was in the Captain America files he and Elena had uncovered and burned after reading. He had the memories of Steve on the bridge, the Helicarier, and the shore where Bucky had left him. 

Some vague things came back to him, mostly during the war a few when they were kids.   
That one dream with Peggy Carter in the red dress that was haunting Bucky. The pub, the dress, the alcohol, Steve's warm and solid presence beside him. He couldn’t remember what they were talking about. He thought it was important.   
Things that came back without a context at first: Jimmy. Jimmy’s laughing, blushing, dead face. He had looked Jimmy up a while back. Just because he needed to know if these images in his head were real. They were. 

“I don't really know him,” Bucky added. 

“But you want to?” Elena asked. 

“Yeah,” he did want to.

Maria put the empty glass down noisily. “But not yet.” 

“Not yet,” Bucky replied. 

“How many of these bases are left to deal with anyway?” Maria asked.   
He didn't believe for a second that she didn't know. 

“Twenty-seven,” Bucky replied. They were down to thirteen just five months ago and then they discovered a few more. It was like a never-ending fucking story. 

“Alright then, we deal with those and then we will drive you to Avenger Headquarters and leave you on Cap's porch,” Maria said. 

Elena frowned. “We will?” 

“Maybe you're right. He'll have to clean up. Maybe buy some flowers-” 

“Jesus,” Bucky said, “he's not my boyfriend.” 

“Yet,” Maria teased. 

~+~  
Another three months later there were only two HYDRA bases they knew of left. After they were back in the USA, after the heart to heart (or whatever) at the dinner, they threw themselves into the whole thing again. Like it were the last few miles in a race. 

“Well,” Elena said, looking at the map. The bases were in different states. Not that far apart, but Bucky new that Elena and Maria wanted to be done with it all too. They were bone-deep tired of this, like Bucky himself. 

“We split up. You two take this one,” he pointed out the right dot on the map, “And I'll take the other. Easy as a Sunday morning.” 

Elena raised her eyebrow at him. “Easy?” 

“We've done it a million times, Elena. We can do it in our sleep. You really think something nasty will suddenly appear out of nowhere?” 

She frowned. Bucky knew she didn't like the idea of them splitting up. Bucky didn't either, but he was also sure that this was just a get in, get intel if there is any and get out. Blow the thing up and be done with it all until something else will rear its ugly head. 

“It is unlikely,” Elena admitted. 

It was very unlikely. The last few bases were completely deserted. Their mission was nearly completed. “I've worked alone before, hell you worked alone before.”

“Yes, you did. We did.” Her finger circled the two dots. “And we will be done.” 

“Yes,” Bucky said. 

“And you will go and visit the Captain after that?” Elena asked. 

“Probably,” Bucky answered. Since he left Steve at the shore he hadn't seen or spoken to him. Had evaded Sam Wilson and his contacts. Had been focused on the mission and trying to find out who he had been before the Winter Soldier, then who he was now, who he wanted to be in the future. There were still holes in his memory, but he thought most of it was there. The important parts he knew – granted he knew them like they had happened to someone else, but he knew this someone else very well. It was enough. 

Maria snorted. “Probably. I wish I could see it. I can picture it perfectly in my head. You, knocking on the door of Avengers HQ and a million weapons pointed at you, because of course none of the other Avengers will trust you, and then the Cap would appear out of nowhere and be mortified and he'd say your name breathlessly and you will fall into each others' arms and-”

Bucky put his metal hand over her mouth, because when he used his flesh arm she always bit it. “Nice, but I don't think it'll happen like that.” 

“I'm not sure about the weapons part,” Elena said. 

Bucky nodded. “Probably true. Of course none of them would trust me. The rest is just a product of Maria's mind.”

“Duh,” Maria said muffled, pushing at his arm. He made her work for it, because he was sometimes an ass. When he pulled his hand away from her mouth, she glared at him. 

He tapped the map. “So?” 

“Fine,” Elena said, making the decision. “But you will check in after. Two days after latest.” 

“Same goes for you two,” Bucky said. 

They nodded.   
“Is this goodbye then?” Maria asked. 

“For now, I guess,” Bucky replied. He would go to Avenger's HQ after he blew up the last HYRA base. It was on the way. Close enough anyway. He couldn’t, he didn't want to push this meeting away any longer. He had to talk to Steve. Couldn't run forever from this confrontation. 

“This calls for ice-cream,” Maria said.

“Alright,” Bucky replied. He had found that he liked ice-cream. Was fond for some reason of lemon, even if it wasn't his favorite flavor. 

~+~  
It was just his luck, that he found another base close by just as he thought he was done with this mission. He had called in to tell Elena and Maria that yes, everything went off without a hitch. He kept that last base to himself, because he could deal with it, and why make them come here? Why make them worry? 

By now they were on their way to Europe. To find that nice house and picket fence.  
Bucky...Bucky was trapped and cursing himself. The base had some kind of defense system he hadn't encountered before, his phone got damaged in the process and the base was alerting whoever was close by to an intruder. There weren't any HYDRA bases left in the whole fucking state, of that Bucky was pretty sure, but – and that was a really big but, Sam Wilson was still looking for him and if an alarm got off somewhere underground where no alarm had to be, not to mention go off, then that would make the birdboy come flying.   
He should probably be glad that someone would come eventually, because he wasn't sure how long he would be able to stay awake and alert.

He hoped that Sam Wilson would be here soon. A few months ago he would even have hoped for a HYDRA goon, but not anymore. Because by now he was sure they would just put a bullet in his brain and be done with it all.   
Bucky was too much trouble for anyone to handle by this point.   
He resigned himself to waiting. 

~+~  
Of course Bucky thought, of course. Sam Wilson didn't come alone. There was Steve. Steve, Bucky noted, and not Captain America. 

“It's rigged,” Bucky said, as soon as they found him. “I wouldn’t try to touch it.” His voice sounded unused to his own ears. 

“But it’s safe to touch you?” Sam Wilson asked. 

“Not on the first date, no.”

“Liar,” Steve said. 

Bucky looked at him then, straight into Steve's face and Steve didn't shy away. Was just standing still for it. “How would you know? I'm a whole new person now.” 

Steve looked away then.   
“I was only asking, because you look like you could use some water and maybe a snickers,” Sam Wilson cut in. 

“Yes,” Bucky said and it was an answer to all of Sam Wilson's questions. 

It turned out that Sam Wilson wasn't even joking about the Snickers. A candy bar wasn't really cutting it, but Bucky wasn't going to start and be ungrateful now. Sam looked at the trap from all angles and then sighed. “I have no idea how to get you out of there. It would need an engineer-” he looked to Steve then.   
Something passed over Steve's face and Sam continued with, “I'll be right back.” 

“I'll just stay here and wait then,” Bucky replied.

That surprised a laugh out of Sam.   
He could hear them at the other end of the room. It was impossible not to.   
“So,” Sam said after. “We will get this guy I know.” 

“I gathered as much,” Bucky replied. 

“Right. I'll be just outside,” Sam said. “Making a call.” 

Bucky nodded and then he was alone with Steve. The silence was oppressing before Steve looked at him and said “Bucky.” 

Bucky laughed, because fuck, but hadn't Maria been right about it? All breathless and kinda guilty and awed and if Bucky weren't in danger of losing his arm and bleeding out when he moved they would probably be hugging now.   
Steve took a step back at the sound of Bucky's laugh. “I thought – I'm sorry,” he breathed in once, Bucky watched him do it, his ribcage expand and his face fall. 

“It's fine. In fact, yes, I go by Bucky now, Steve,” Bucky said. 

“Oh,” Steve replied. “Are you alright?” 

Bucky looked pointedly at his arm. “No.” 

“Stupid question,” Steve said. He didn't apologize for it, which – yes, Bucky thought he was glad for that. He didn't want Steve to apologize for anything at all. He wanted to tell Steve about that dream he had, about falling and hearing Steve's voice as he was ripped away. About the heartache in it and how it hurt to hear it and to remember it and to relive it over and over and over again. But he didn't. It wasn't the time for such things. 

“This guy Wilson knows, is he any good?” Bucky asked. 

Steve shrugged. “I don't know him, but if Sam is willing to call him and have him help, he'll have something going for him, I figure.” 

“I appreciate this,” Bucky said. 

“Buck, of course we would help.”

It wasn't what Bucky meant, but he couldn’t tell Steve because then Sam came back. “Okay,” Sam said. “All set, we just have to wait, but he'll be here soon and then we can deal with this. By the way this base isn't rigged to blow up at some point, is it?” 

“No,” Bucky said. “Not yet, anyway.” 

“Alright, that makes me feel so much better,” Sam replied. 

“How long will your guy take?” Bucky wanted to know. 

“Two to three hours? Why?”

“I'm starving,” Bucky admitted. 

“Oh, right. We do have some sandwiches in the car and water.” 

“That would be great,” Bucky replied. 

“No problem, I'll be right back,” Sam said and left them alone again. 

“We've been looking for you,” Steve said eventually. 

“I know,” Bucky said. “Everyone has been looking for me.” He smiled wryly. “Including me.” 

“And did you find what you were looking for?” Steve asked, looking at Bucky. 

“Did you?” 

“I'm not sure,” Steve admitted. 

Bucky nodded. He could relate.   
Sam came back with sandwiches and water just in time. Bucky wasn't ready for more heart to hearts with Steve.   
They ate in relative silence until Wilson's guy showed up. 

~+~  
Bucky heard about this guy. Relatively new player going by the name “Ant-Man,” Steve said. And Bucky could so relate. 

“I know, I know, it's not as patriotic as Captain America, but in my defense I didn't chose it. It came with the suite.” Ant-Man 'Call me Scott' replied while he was looking at Bucky's arm. 

“His too,” Bucky said and Scott looked at his face. 

“Kinda a no-brainer, really if you think about it. Dude is wearing an American flag on his chest,” Scott said and then went back to looking at the mechanism.   
Wilson was hiding a grin by looking away from them.   
Steve frowned. 

“I know, right?” Bucky said. “What else could they have called him? And it was such a patriotic time back then too.”   
Scott snorted.   
“At least Wilson got a cool codename.” 

“Yeah, Falcon does sound pretty good,” Scott admitted. 

“Thanks, but I was fortunate to choose it myself,” Wilson replied. 

Scott leaned back, frowned at the machinery and then said, “I'll need to see this from the inside.” 

“The inside,” Steve asked. 

“Yeah, this might freak you out a bit, but really, it's kinda my thing,” Scott said and disappeared. 

“His thing is freaking people out,” Steve said. 

“Being tiny and strong,” Sam replied, amused. “To do great things-”

Bucky could see and feel Scott crawling over his arm. It wasn't an entirely pleasant feeling.   
“Like the Hobbit,” Steve cut in. 

“Hey!” Scott piped up, but Bucky wasn't sure if anyone beside him could even hear that. 

He tuned them all out then and let Scott do his thing. 

~+~  
Bucky flexed the arm and then wriggled his fingers, according to what Scott told him to do. Scott was adjusting and repairing the plates that were damaged as Bucky had been stuck.   
Steve and Wilson were hovering nearby.

“It's a lala job, because I don't have the tools here,” Scott said, it didn't even sound like an apology. Bucky decide he liked Scott. “Because someone didn't tell me what I was going to do here.”

“Yes, it's all very hush hush when it comes to the Winter Soldier,” Bucky said, before Steve or Wilson could say anything. 

Scott looked up at him. “Are you-” he stopped. 

Bucky wanted to shrug but didn't because he didn't want to upset Scott's instruments. “The Winter Soldier?” 

“Yes,” Scott said. “Also for the record, I know you didn't choose it for yourself, or hell maybe you did and don't remember, but as code-names go, it's okay.” 

Bucky grinned. “Yeah, it kinda is.” 

“You might want to stick with it. It makes people piss their pants,” Scott said and closed the panels. 

“Lang!” Steve said, sounding scandalized.

Bucky laughed. “Thanks.” 

“All done for now. You should come into the workshop soon, so I can look at it properly.” 

“Okay,” Bucky said. 

Scott got up and stretched, turned and looked at Steve and Wilson. “So, how big do you guys owe me now?” 

Pretty big, Bucky thought and laughed out loud.   
Steve's even more scandalized face was priceless. He could never pay Scott back for that. 

~+~  
They blew the whole thing once they were out and Bucky let Scott pull the trigger. 

“I like you, Winter Soldier,” Scott said, holding out his hand. 

Bucky shook it. “I like you too, Ant-Man.” 

“Come by soon,” Scott said and then as if he just remembered. “A scary but hot looking woman could answer the door, maybe even half naked. Do not stray from the mission.” 

Bucky grinned. “I would regret hitting on her?” 

“That's what I thought the first time we met.” 

“Verdict still out on that one?” 

Scott shrugged, grinning.   
Yeah, Bucky thought, he knew that type too. 

“Can we drop you off somewhere?” Wilson asked. 

“You think I walked here? I have a car parked nearby.” Scott answered and said his goodbyes. 

“Bucky?” Steve asked. 

“I didn't walk either,” Bucky said. 

“Right,” Steve replied. 

“Give the man a break,” Wilson said looking at Bucky. “Want to get something to eat and a coffee with us, Barnes?” 

“Yes,” Bucky replied. 

“Great, you know any good places here or do I have to google it?” 

“I know a decent place around here,” Bucky said. “You can follow.” 

“Sure,” Wilson replied and to Steve. “That is how you do it, Cap.” 

Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled at Sam.   
Bucky got into the car, sure that they would follow.


	9. Chapter 9

_~Three~_

He declined Steve and Sam's offer to live at Avenger's HQ. He was sure that there weren't so many people out there who wanted a piece of him anymore and Steve was pretty much running the whole Avengers thing now, but still. He wasn't comfortable yet with actually living with Steve under the same roof. Again.  
Maybe that would change with time, but right now he and Steve needed to figure out what kind of people they were and what they were to each other. 

~+~  
Thing was, Bucky thought, the really stupid thing was, that not knowing this Steve, didn't stop him from being attracted to Steve.  
He knew that back then he and Steve never were more than friends. He was pretty sure that he had been attracted to Steve during the war, but also that he never told Steve.   
It probably didn't matter anyway now.   
This was a whole new world and Bucky was a whole new self. 

“It's true and eternal love,” Maria said. 

Bucky could see part of their living room in that small cottage in France where they were living right now. He tried to stay in touch with the few friends he had. Elena and Maria made it easy by calling him on Skype roughly once a week.   
“More like eternal pining,” Bucky huffed. 

Maria laughed. “Do you really want to wait another fifty years to ask the guy out?”

The answer to that was no. “What if he doesn't want to go out?” 

“Then you will know for sure and can look elsewhere.” 

Of course she would be practical about it. Bucky knew that eternal pining wasn't really an option.   
There was also always the fear that Steve would look for the old Bucky – and Bucky couldn’t be that person anymore.   
“The world is full of great people,” Elena said, coming into the frame. “We just met this nice guy, his name is Jacque-”

“Hold your horses,” Bucky cut in. “Let me first try this and if it doesn't work you can send me a picture of Jacque.” 

“He is just your type and he speaks fluently French,” Maria said. 

“Steve speaks fluently French,” Bucky said. “Also; Jacque is French.” 

“Don't you speak fluently French as well?” Elena asked. 

“Amongst other things.” This one he is sure he learned during the war from Derriere. Romanian he could always speak and Steve taught him English. The Russian – well, the Russians. 

“Talented tongue,” Maria teased. 

“As if you would know,” Bucky replied. 

“Ask the guy out. If you get your heart broken, come over and we will introduce you to cute French guys,” Maria said. “Talk next week!”   
And then she just disconnected the call. It wasn't the first time she's done that either. Bucky sighed and got up, stretched, made some coffee and then looked at his phone. Steve had told him he could call anytime and that he would pick up when he wasn't out saving the world. 

Bucky hadn’t heard anything about a major crisis on TV or over his usual channels so he figured Steve would be home or at Headquarters maybe training the new additions or going over reports.   
In the end he sent a text message because if he called, Steve would probably think something was wrong.   
His 'are you busy' was answered with 'no. want to hang out?'.   
Bucky said yes. 

~+~  
Hanging out with Steve became a thing after that. Something inside Bucky clicked and felt right when he was with Steve and even if at the beginning Steve would look for his old childhood friend in Bucky’s features, it happened less and less. 

Sometimes he would start with ‘Do you remember that time-' and stop, shaking his head. “Never mind,” he would say and Bucky would just nod. 

Because no, he still didn’t remember a lot of things. Sometimes Bucky answered with ‘No, but I read about it, is it true that-?’ and Steve would grin and tell the story as he remembered it. 

“I have this dream,” Bucky said, because they were in Bucky’s living room, small and cozy as it was and it had been a really good evening so far. They were finding space to fit around each other and the people they used to be and it was good. Bucky liked it. He liked Steve. 

Steve made an encouraging noise, slipping further into the soft folds of the old armchair Bucky and Sam had found at a thrift shop. “We are in a pub and Peggy is there in a red dress.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” Steve said. “You hit on her.” 

“Sure did,” Bucky replied. 

“She shot you down,” Steve said, smiling. Remembering. 

“Of course she did. She was in love with you,” Bucky said. 

“What about that dream?” Steve asked. Maybe there was something in Bucky’s voice that made him sit up and look at Bucky. 

“I can't hear what we were talking about, but I know it was important,” Bucky answered. 

“Well...Peggy left and you and me, we sat down again and you told me that it fucks with you sometimes, me being this,” Steve said, gesturing, indicating his body. “You said you were just drunk enough to do it. Said that you were glad I came for you-”

“I was. I am. Glad that you didn't give up on me, or him, or us. You know?” 

“Yeah,” Steve said, his eyes gentle and his voice soft. “Yeah.”

“So what else?” 

“I was trying to ask what they did to you, if you were alright and you said, you were fine and if you were a bit screwed up because of it, well that was war. And I said, I knew it was war-”

“Now, now you know, is what I said,” Bucky cut in. 

Steve looked at him. “No, you didn't.” 

“You sure?” Bucky asked. 

“Yes, I'm sure. But maybe you wanted to say it, but didn't because you wanted to spare me,” Steve said. “Back then, even if it was in the middle of a war, it was still...fun, kinda. I mean, we always made it and I – I knew you weren't alright, but I hoped you would be again, one day. After.” Steve ran a hand over his face.   
Guilt, Bucky thought. So much guilt and then he knew his last thought again. The one that was always there at the tip of his tongue, just out of reach, when he dreamed about falling. 

“When I fell,” Bucky said. 

“Buck-”

“No, let me,” Bucky replied and Steve sighed, but nodded. “When I fell, there were two things in my head I wanted to tell you, both equally important I think, but then I decided on one but it was too late. Wanna know?” 

“Yes,” Steve said, steeling himself, visibly. 

“Don't blame yourself,” Bucky said. 

Steve took a deep breath and then he just closed his eyes like he was in pain. “You thought that back in the bar I got that it was a war, but I don't think I did. I mean, I knew but all of it sunk in when you fell. Of course I blamed myself. You had my back, Bucky. You had always my back, before the war and during the war you watched out for me, and the Commandos and on that train too and I should have been able to look out for myself or look out for you, but even though I was this I failed to have your back.”

“You didn't give up on me-”

“But I did!” Steve said, agitated and got up. “I did. I saw you fall and I didn't look for you and then later when I – on the helicarrier when I wouldn’t fight you. I gave up then too and you, you had my back.” 

There was silence. A lot of silence and Bucky didn't know what to say to Steve's confession. “Good thing I decided I still like you enough to save your stupid ass then,” he said eventually and Steve laughed. It sounded a bit shocked. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I wondered about that. You know?”

Bucky shrugged, the easy/hard answer was, because I love you, even when I was in love with other people l loved you. But he wasn't going to say that. “It's probably engraved onto my bones. Must protect Steve Rogers. Sometimes from himself.”

“Often,” Steve replied. “Often from myself.” 

“Just because I'm here again, doesn't mean you get a free pass to throw yourself into danger,” Bucky said. It was meant as teasing, but he was serious about it too. 

“I don't think I'll get another chance at life, Bucky. I already got two. This is the third and I'm gonna make it count.” Steve's declaration sounded more like a vow, Bucky thought. 

“Good, now be a dear and order pizza. Heart to hearts make me hungry,” Bucky said to lighten the mood.   
Steve rolled his eyes, but he got out his phone anyway. 

~+~  
“Are you getting restless yet?!” Marina asked. Her hair was a mess and she was only wearing an oversized t-shirt and had a mug of coffee in hand, a croissant on the plate. Bucky could see sunshine streaming through the kitchen window of their cottage. He missed her. 

“No,” Bucky said. 

“Really?” 

“I spar, go on runs with Sam and Steve and found a shooting range close by.”

“Ah, you’re keeping in shape, that’s good,” Maria replied 

“But?” 

“But- how about a nice hobby. Elena took up knitting,” Maria answered. 

“Knitting?” 

“She says it’s fun.” 

“I don’t think I’m the knitting type,” Bucky said. He used to mend his own clothes for a long while before and during the war. He knew that, he could still stitch pretty nicely and evenly. 

“What does make you happy?” Maria asked. 

“What is your new not lethal hobby?” 

“Baking,” Maria said. “There is this British baking competition show that makes me feel all warm inside, because these people are just so nice, you know? So…I thought, what the hell, right? And here I am. I’m thinking about starting my own food blog. I just need a cool name.” 

Bucky could cook alright and bake too, if needed, but it wasn’t something he did for fun. It was fun sometimes to surprise Steve with dinner.   
“Let me think on it,” Bucky said. 

“Pfff…,” Maria replied, taking a huge bite of her croissants. “I’ll just ask Jacque. Speaking off, how is Steve?”

“Good, in fact I’m meeting him for breakfast in half an hour. Have to go,” Bucky said. 

“I want details, Bucky. Details.” 

Bucky grinned and switched off the laptop. He hadn’t been lying about meeting with Steve for breakfast, he just didn’t tell her that Sam would be there too. That it was a thing they did now. Having breakfast once a week at different places. It was Sam’s week to choose. For some weird reason Sam knew the best places for uncomplicated breakfast.   
Bucky showered, put on clothes and was smoking on the porch when Sam’s car rolled up. 

“Get in,” Sam said. “Put that out first. Don’t you know how bad that is for you?” 

“I don’t think it sticks,” Bucky said. “My metabolism isn’t as fast as Steve’s but it’s pretty fast.”

“Do you even feel the effects then?” Sam asked, as Bucky crushed the butt under his heel. 

“I like doing it,” Bucky replied, getting in the car. “So where are we going?” 

“You will love this one,” Sam said. 

They picked up Steve on the way there and Sam had been right. Bucky loved it. It was Russian. 

“Sam-“ Steve said, clearly unsure about the whole thing. 

“Relax, Steve,” Bucky said, already making for the young man at the counter. “I’m going to order for you guys. You won’t regret it.” 

And then he was there smiling at the young man and it was so easy, the Russian perfect and real and familiar in his ears and on his tongue.   
Before he knew it he was laughing and nodding until Sam interrupted by yelling for coffee. The young man blushed, Bucky rolled his eyes. He waited until the coffee was done and took a tray back to the table Sam and Steve had selected. 

“Do they always take that long?” Sam teased. 

“You were rude, so rude, Sam Wilson. I was having a nice conversation over there.” 

“Looked like you were flirting. Charming the boy out of his pants,” Sam replied, smiling. 

“How would you know?” 

“It’s the universal language,” Sam answered. 

“Right,” Steve said. “Coffee?” Because Bucky was still holding the tray and coffee hostage. Bucky sat the mugs down and grabbed a chair. 

“This was a great idea, Sam.” 

“Thanks.” 

~+~  
Two weeks later after a spar with Steve, Steve sat down on a bench in the locker room and said. “So I always wanted to ask, but back then it wasn’t done, but – do you remember Jimmy?” 

“He was in my unit,” Bucky answered, rubbing his hair dry. Not looking at Steve. 

“Yeah, but. Do you only know this because you read the files, or do you-“

“I remember him,” Bucky interrupted softly. He remembered Jimmy’s laugh and the way his fingers felt in Bucky’s hair when Bucky went down on him. “He had a dog. He was just a kid when he died – I held his hand.”

“Yes,” Steve replied, sounding relieved. “Did you and Jimmy-“

“Yes,” Bucky said, turning to look at Steve. “We were. I’m pretty sure he loved me, I’m pretty sure I loved him too.” 

“You could have told me, you know?” 

“About Jimmy?” Bucky asked. 

“Yes, but also that you like boys,” Steve answered. 

“Boys? Men, more like it,” Bucky said. It was true that Jimmy had been his first male lover and probably the last too, he didn’t remember any other after, but he was pretty sure he wasn’t into ‘boys’ as a rule. A lot of men caught his eye for a lot of different reasons. “Women too.” 

“How long did you know?” 

“It really sank in when Jimmy kissed me,” Bucky said, remembering that part clearly and how he thought that Steve would probably kiss like that. “But I had a crush on someone before, just didn’t realize it.” He shrugged. He didn’t think Steve had a problem with it, but a part of him wanted to ask anyway. He didn’t. 

“I’m glad you told me now.”   
“It’s not like I’m going to go to prison for it – at least not in this country,” Bucky replied. “I can talk about it and I can flirt with men and I can date men-“

“Do you want to?” Steve interrupted.

“Generally, yes I do. Right now? No, I don’t think so. So, don’t try and set me up with some gay accountant you know, okay?” 

Steve smiled. “I wouldn’t.” 

“Good.”

“Buck?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I could have been there for you if you’d told me about Jimmy,” Steve said. 

“Steve – it was a war. People died. I wasn’t ready to tell you. You just met Peggy-“

“You were looking out for me,” Steve said. “My happiness.” 

Bucky smiled wryly. “Always, Steve always.” 

It was clear Steve didn’t know what to say to that level of honesty. So he got up and grabbed Bucky and Bucky let him. Steve gave the best hugs anyway. 

~+~  
“Romanian,” Steve said. 

It was Bucky’s turn to find a place for their weekly breakfast. 

“Romanian,” Sam said, he sounded a bit skeptical. 

“Where I was born,” Bucky said, nodding. 

“You remembered,” Steve replied. 

“Yeah. Bits and pieces, I do hope you didn’t just say you liked authentic Romanian cuisine because you wanted to be nice to my mother,” Bucky grinned. 

“No, I liked it. Your mother was a good cook.” 

Bucky couldn’t really remember if that was true and maybe nostalgia tinted Steve’s memory, but he had discovered he liked Romanian food. It made him feel warm inside, maybe his body was remembering this. 

“I’ll just let you guys order for me,” Sam said, already heading for an empty table. 

“Okay Sam. You know what you want Steve?” Bucky asked. 

“Surprise me,” Steve answered. 

Bucky nodded. 

~+~  
There was a life he was carving out for himself. And there was Steve like before and different, because neither of them was the boy they used to be before the war.   
And Bucky was falling in love with Steve all over again.   
Sometimes he thought, maybe Steve was falling in love with him too. 

~+~  
“What was the other one,” Steve asked suddenly. He had been silent for a while, but that was not unusual. 

“Hmm?” Bucky replied distracted. They were in a bar and Scott was tearing up the dance floor while Hope was probably imagining all the ways she could kill him right now. Because he was fucking embarrassing. At least Scott wasn’t the only one dancing. Bucky was seriously thinking about joining him. They were playing one of those pop songs Maria liked to listen to on repeat. There was a sense of home here, with these people. Bucky had a life again. 

“When you fell,” Steve said and Bucky clued in, looked at Steve, who was staring at the beer between his fingers, resolutely. “You said there were two things on your mind. And you decided,” he took a breath, turned his head slightly and looked at Bucky.   
The noise around him fell away. Bucky wasn’t sure he was ready to tell Steve. And here? Noisy bar, their friends shattered all around them – having fun. But Steve was ready to hear it so...   
“You decided on: don’t feel guilty.”

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “Because it was the not selfish option.” 

“What was the other thing, Buck?”

“You don’t have the excuse of saying you’re just drunk enough to-“

Steve grabbed his hand. The metal one, oh so fucking gently and looked Bucky straight in the eyes. “I don’t need an excuse Bucky. Do you?”   
It had been coming, building, catching up with Bucky. He cocked his head. Maybe it had finally caught up with Steve too. 

“No,” Bucky said. 

“Then tell me. Please.” 

Bucky wondered what Steve was imagining. I hate you? Avenge me?   
“I love you,” Bucky said. 

“What?” Steve looked shocked for a second. 

“The other thing on my mind, was: I love you.” 

“But – you and Jimmy and –“ Steve said. 

“Jimmy had been dead by then for months Steve. And you…” he shrugged. Maybe Steve would clue in. 

Steve stared at him. “All the talk about me marrying Peggy-“

Bucky sighed. “You loved her. You wanted that. The house, the picket fence, the dog.”

“You wanted that too,” Steve said. 

Bucky smiled. “Yeah. With you. But that was not what you wanted and I always wanted you to be happy. These are the things you do for the people you love, Steve. Keep them happy, keep them safe.” 

That’s what Bucky had been doing since he first met Steve.   
There was a long moment of silence. Bucky was vaguely aware that there was music in the background and people laughing, but mostly he was aware of Steve and his fingers on his metal arm. 

Steve nodded, once sharply like he made a decision. “Or in my case, tear the world down and let it all burn.” He downed his beer and put the bottle down. “Wanna get out of here?” 

Bucky laughed. Steve’s fingers on his metal arm tightened. He looked unsure again. Bucky leaned in, so their lips nearly touched and then turned his head, let his nose slide against Steve’s cheek as he whispered, “And what will we do once we get out of here?”

He could hear Steve swallow. Could feel Steve’s skin, so fucking hot. He could feel himself getting hard and it was stupid, because they weren’t even doing anything.   
Steve squared his shoulders, grabbed him and pulled him in. The kiss was hard and uncoordinated. He didn’t kiss like Jimmy at all. “More of this? With more fineness maybe? Maybe with less clothes on?” Steve said. He had that stubborn look in his eyes, that tilt that told Bucky he’s not gonna back down, not gonna give up easily this time. 

God, but fuck it, Bucky really wanted that and more. He pulled away and looked at Steve. “So, suddenly you want me?” He wanted to say ‘love me’, but that was stupid, because of course Steve loved him. One way or another. Steve’s love for him was never in question. He did tear down half the world for Bucky. 

“I don’t think there is anything sudden about it, Bucky,” Steve answered. 

“We’re in a bar-“

“I can’t get drunk. You know that. This is not – yes, maybe I just realized that I am in love with you, Buck, but- it’s not -,” he cut himself off. “I’m not curios or anything.”

“You know I’ve been waiting pretty much a hundred years to tell you.” 

“No,” Steve said. “You were waiting for me to catch up.”

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe.” 

“So,” Steve said. “You want to get out of here?” 

“Yeah,” Bucky replied.   
Just as he got up Scott brushed against him, grin on his face, he pressed something small into Bucky’s hand. “Always safe.”  
Steve heard, because his cheeks tinted a tempting pink. 

“I don’t put out on a first date,” Bucky said. 

“That’s what Hope told me-“

“Lang!” Hope said sharply. 

Scott grinned. “You boys have fun.” 

Bucky laughed and grabbed Steve’s hand. He was sure they would.

~+~  
It was a no-brainer that they would go back to Bucky’s apartment. Steve still lived in Avengers HQ and Bucky wasn’t too keen on meeting anyone the next morning in his underwear. Not that he had any illusions about not being teased to hell and back about this. Steve had always been one for the grand gestures after all. 

“Everyone will know we fucked,” Bucky said between hard kisses.   
Steve’s breath hitched. Bucky pulled away and took Steve’s face into his hands. He knew, knew, that Steve wasn’t a virgin. If Peggy hadn’t taken care of that, Natasha sure as hell did. It was in their body language.   
“Steve-“

Steve surged forward and kissed Bucky into silence. When they came up for air again, Bucky leaned against Steve and just breathed him in. “I really don’t want to ask the question,” Bucky sighed. 

“Then don’t, you know the answer anyway.”

Bucky did. “Okay, but-“

“It’s a cock, Buck,” Steve interrupted, “I have one of my very own, and I’m pretty sure I don’t need a manual to make it work.” There was a slight note of defensive annoyance in Steve’s voice. Bucky found it fucking endearing. 

“Hmm, but maybe we should go over the basics anyway,” Bucky said. 

“Fine,” Steve replied. “Stroking it slowly for starters,” his voice became lower and Bucky grabbed Steve’s t-shirt with both hands. “Licking and sucking on it after. I’d kiss it for a while just because I can.”   
Shit, Bucky should have known that Steve wouldn’t back down from this either.   
“Does that work for you?” Steve asked, but he knew, because Bucky’s erection was pressed against Steve’s stomach. 

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “But we should expend on that later anyway.”

“You know I'm an attentive and eager pupil,” Steve teased as his fingers slid over Bucky's back and to his ass to squeeze it gently. It was nearly too gentle, but Bucky wasn't going to complain, not this first time anyway. 

“Yeah, I know,” he kissed Steve again. “Clothes off.”

“Bossy.”

“You like it,” Bucky replied. 

Steve smiled at him and it was that stupidly fond smile and yeah, Bucky was hopelessly gone for Steve. “I do,” Steve said and stripped out of his clothes, Bucky did the same. Next time he would take his sweet time unclothing Steve and kissing every uncovered inch of his body, but now he was too desperate. Steve was too. His erection was a dead give away.   
“What do you want?” Steve asked. 

Bucky wanted to bury himself in Steve, but he wanted to take it slow too, because there was no fucking rush. He grabbed Steve by the hip and pulled him in. His cock brushed against Steve's and Steve moaned. “This is good,” he said between kisses. He wanted to keep kissing Steve, because Steve's lips were soft and a bit slick and just so fucking perfect.   
Steve was steering them in the direction of the bed and then he pushed at Bucky and let himself fall onto the bed in one smooth move. Steve licked his lips and Bucky followed that movement. 

“What now, Soldier?” Steve asked playfully.

Bucky got on the bed and straddled him. He pushed the fingers of his metal hand against Steve's soft mouth. Steve sucked them in. When they were wet enough and Bucky couldn’t take it anymore he grabbed his and Steve's cock and started stroking. Steve grabbed his hip hard. “This working for you?”

“Yeah, Buck. Fuck. Yeah, it does,” Steve said breathlessly. Bucky was waiting for the moment Steve would give in and close his eyes, but it wasn't happening. Steve was looking at Bucky, at his lips, into his eyes, and then at their cocks in Bucky's metal hand and he wasn't freaking out, wasn't afraid Bucky would hurt him, he was moaning. Loudly.   
Bucky's sped his strokes up and watched Steve tense, felt his fingers grip Bucky's hip harder. “Close,” Steve said, as if Bucky didn't know. Couldn’t read it in Steve's body language. He leaned down and kissed Steve and Steve spilled into Bucky's hand and against his cock. He let go of Steve's dick and stroked a bit harder and faster until he came all over Steve's perfect chest.   
Steve grabbed him and pulled him down, mindless of the mess between their bodies. 

He kissed Bucky's cheek. “Not bad for a first timer,” Bucky said. 

“Thanks, ready for another lesson when you are.”

“Oh I can match whatever you can dish out, Rogers,” Bucky replied. 

“Good, cause we have all night.”

Bucky had to kiss that stupid cocky grin from Steve's face. 

~+~  
“So...” Maria said. “You will never meet Jacque now, will you?”

“I don't know, Maria,” Bucky replied. “I showed Steve his picture. Steve thinks he's hot. Does Jacque approve of threesomes?” 

“I'll ask him,” Maria said. “But I'm not sure he can keep up with two supersoldiers.”

“We would go easy on him,” Bucky promises. 

“You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you?” Maria asked. 

“He has!” Steve yelled from the kitchen where he was making French toast. 

“Don't even,” Bucky replied laughing. “You were the one who was waxing poetically about his cheekbones.”

“They are great. I have a haiku written about them.” 

Bucky shook his head. 

“I'm happy for you,” Maria said with a small smile. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she replied. “And I even forgive you for not coming up with a cool name for my blog, as you're so clearly distracted by Cap's formidable ass.” 

He threw his head back and laughed. “Talk to you later, Maria.” 

“Yeah, yeah, go have more supersex.” 

Bucky disconnected the call and looked at Steve, who was placing a stack of French toast on plates. 

He turned around and smiled. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said. “Just me being happy.” 

Steve smiled that impossibly fond smile again.   
Yeah, Bucky thought, he hadn't had a snowball's chance in hell since Steve first smiled at him like that. He didn't really mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it took me a year to finish and post this...thank you everyone who stuck with this for so long. Still no beta...


End file.
